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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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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Right
Lighted
Every
Foul
Spoken
Loud
Smoke
Fairs
Fair
Air
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
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
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
What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.
Geoffrey Chaucer
If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The guilty think all talk is of themselves.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination.
Geoffrey Chaucer
With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One cannot be avenged for every wrong according to the occasion, everyone who knows how, must use temperance.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The bisy larke, messager of day.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One shouldn't be too inquisitive in life Either about God's secrets or one's wife.
Geoffrey Chaucer
All good things must come to an end.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was And yet he seemed busier than he was.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
Geoffrey Chaucer
Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer