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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
Every
Foul
Spoken
Loud
Smoke
Fairs
Fair
Air
Right
Lighted

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This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.
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Murder will out, this my conclusion.
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Alas, alas, that ever love was sin! I ever followed natural inclination Under the power of my constellation And was unable to deny, in truth, My chamber of Venus to a likely youth.
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One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
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The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.
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Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
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He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
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First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
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Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
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Certes, they been lye to hounds, for an hound when he cometh by the roses, or by other bushes, though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a countenance to pisse.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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To keep demands as much skill as to win.
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Patience is a conquering virtue.
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And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.
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I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.
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People can die of mere imagination.
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