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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
May
Dice
Throw
Fortune
Trust
Literature
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
In love there is but little rest.
Geoffrey Chaucer
But manly set the world on sixe and sevene And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Look up on high, and thank the God of all.
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
The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
Geoffrey Chaucer
To keep demands as much skill as to win.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Patience is a conquering virtue.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience, That neither by hir wordes ne hir face Biforn the folk, ne eek in her absence, Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The bisy larke, messager of day.
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
Many a true word is spoken in jest
Geoffrey Chaucer
The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Who looks at me, beholdeth sorrows all, All pain, all torture, woe and all distress I have no need on other harms to call, As anguish, languor, cruel bitterness, Discomfort, dread, and madness more and less Methinks from heaven above the tears must rain In pity for my harsh and cruel pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
Geoffrey Chaucer
We little know the things for which we pray.
Geoffrey Chaucer
In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower.
Geoffrey Chaucer
There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
Geoffrey Chaucer
