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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
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
Shalt
Thou
Make
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
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
I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
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
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
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Mercy surpasses justice.
Geoffrey Chaucer
For many a pasty have you robbed of blood, And many a Jack of Dover have you sold That has been heated twice and twice grown cold. From many a pilgrim have you had Christ's curse, For of your parsley they yet fare the worse, Which they have eaten with your stubble goose For in your shop full many a fly is loose.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Murder will out, this my conclusion.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was And yet he seemed busier than he was.
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
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
What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.
Geoffrey Chaucer
