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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Fortune
Trust
Literature
May
Dice
Throw
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
Soun is noght but air ybroken, And every speche that is spoken, Loud or privee, foul or fair, In his substaunce is but air For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke, Right so soun is air ybroke.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Certes, they been lye to hounds, for an hound when he cometh by the roses, or by other bushes, though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a countenance to pisse.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Make a virtue of necessity.
Geoffrey Chaucer
But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
Geoffrey Chaucer
He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One cannot scold or complain at every word. Learn to endure patiently, or else, as I live and breathe, you shall learn it whether you want or not.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
A whetstone is no carving instrument, And yet it maketh sharp the carving tool And if you see my efforts wrongly spent, Eschew that course and learn out of my school For thus the wise may profit by the fool, And edge his wit, and grow more keen and wary, For wisdom shines opposed to its contrary.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Mercy surpasses justice.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Many a true word is spoken in jest
Geoffrey Chaucer
Fo lo, the gentil kind of the lioun! For when a flye offendeth him or byteth, He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth Al esily, for, of his genterye, Him deyneth net to wreke him on a flye, As cloth a curre or elles another beste.
Geoffrey Chaucer
. . . if gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust. . . .
Geoffrey Chaucer
Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
Geoffrey Chaucer
And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.
Geoffrey Chaucer
