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Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.

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
Cold
Fire

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Fie on possession, But if a man be vertuous withal.
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
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He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
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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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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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Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
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Patience is a conquering virtue. The learned say that, if it not desert you, It vanquishes what force can never reach Why answer back at every angry speech? No, learn forbearance or, I'll tell you what, You will be taught it, whether you will or not.
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For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.
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For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
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Mercy surpasses justice.
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All good things must come to an end.
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There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
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Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
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If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
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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.
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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.
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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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What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.
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And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other.
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