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And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other.

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
Dear
Brother
Alone
Politics

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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.
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The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
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That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.
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If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
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Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
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All good things must come to an end.
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The life so brief, the art so long in the learning, the attempt so hard, the conquest so sharp, the fearful joy that ever slips away so quickly - by all this I mean love, which so sorely astounds my feeling with its wondrous operation, that when I think upon it I scarce know whether I wake or sleep.
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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.
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Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.
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I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose.
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Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.
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Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
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Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
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Mercy surpasses justice.
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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.
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If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
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For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Remember in the forms of speech comes change Within a thousand years, and words that then Were well esteemed, seem foolish now and strange And yet they spake them so, time and again, And thrived in love as well as any men And so to win their loves in sundry days, In sundry lands there are as many ways.
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He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
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