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We little know the things for which we pray.

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
Pray
Praying
Prayer
Littles
Little
Things

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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.
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Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
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Make a virtue of necessity.
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Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.
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Mercy surpasses justice.
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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
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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.
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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.
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But manly set the world on sixe and sevene And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
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One shouldn't be too inquisitive in life Either about God's secrets or one's wife.
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Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
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Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
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Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.
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And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other.
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The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.
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Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee Ye, blessed be alwey, a lewed man That noght but oonly his believe kan! So ferde another clerk with astromye, He walked in the feelds, for to prye Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne Al this mene I be love... For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this new corn fro yeer to yere And out of olde bokes, in good feith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
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He that loveth God will do diligence to please God by his works, and abandon himself, with all his might, well for to do.
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'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'
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