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Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.

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
Sauce
Woe
Culinary
Cook
Cooks
Cooking
Whose
Food
Sting

More quotes by 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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We little know the things for which we pray.
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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
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Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
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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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First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For out of old fields, as men saith, Cometh all this new corn from year to year And out of old books, in good faith, Cometh all this new science that men learn.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Patience is a conquering virtue.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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One cannot be avenged for every wrong according to the occasion, everyone who knows how, must use temperance.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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One shouldn't be too inquisitive in life Either about God's secrets or one's wife.
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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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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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
Geoffrey Chaucer