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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.

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
Daisies
White
Men
Love

More quotes by 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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Many a true word is spoken in jest
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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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The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
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Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Patience is a conquering virtue.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The devil can only destroy those who are already on their way to damnation.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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But manly set the world on sixe and sevene And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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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For of fortunes sharp adversitee The worst kynde of infortune is this, A man to han ben in prosperitee, And it remembren, whan it passed is.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.
Geoffrey Chaucer