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Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.
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
Drunkenness
Discretion
Wit
Men
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
Geoffrey Chaucer
There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
Geoffrey Chaucer
. . . if gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust. . . .
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
The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Fie on possession, But if a man be vertuous withal.
Geoffrey Chaucer
If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
Geoffrey Chaucer
The life so brief, the art so long in the learning, the attempt so hard, the conquest so sharp, the fearful joy that ever slips away so quickly - by all this I mean love, which so sorely astounds my feeling with its wondrous operation, that when I think upon it I scarce know whether I wake or sleep.
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
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The bisy larke, messager of day.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
Geoffrey Chaucer
That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.
Geoffrey Chaucer
'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'
Geoffrey Chaucer