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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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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Hem
Hath
March
Book
Canterbury
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
At the ches with me she (Fortune) gan to pleye With her false draughts (pieces) dyvers/She staal on me, and took away my fers. And when I sawgh my fers awaye, Allas! I kouthe no lenger playe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Many a true word is spoken in jest
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was And yet he seemed busier than he was.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.
Geoffrey Chaucer
And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.
Geoffrey Chaucer
What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Women naturally desire the same six things as I they want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous with money, obedient to the wife, and lively in bed.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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
The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.
Geoffrey Chaucer
And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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
Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.
Geoffrey Chaucer
