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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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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Fortunes
Sharp
Passed
Fortune
Worst
Men

More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer

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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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
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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
Geoffrey Chaucer
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We little know the things for which we pray.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Murder will out, this my conclusion.
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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For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
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
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The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
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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One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
Geoffrey Chaucer