Like father, like son: every good tree maketh good fruits.

In a somer seson, whan softe was the sonne, I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep were, In habite an heremite unholy of werkes, Went wide in this world wondres to here.

There smites nothing so sharp, nor smelleth so sour as shame.

But all the wickedness in the world which man may do or think is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea.

I kan noght parfitly my Paternoster as the preest it syngeth,But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood and Randolf Erl of Chestre.

The Spirit of Justice is the single most important seed Piers planted if you don't live by its teaching, your chance of salvation is nil. Unless Conscience and the Cardinal Virtues form the food that people live on, just take my word for it, they're utterly lost - every single living soul among them!

A fair feeld ful of folk fond I ther bitwene -Of alle manere of men, the meene and the riche,Werchynge and wandrynge as the world asketh.

Al the povere peple tho pescoddes fetten Benes and baken apples thei broghte in hir lappe, Chibolles and chervelles and ripe chiries manye, And profrede Piers this present to plese with Hunger.

Manye chapeleyns arn chaste, ac charite is aweye Are none hardere than hii whan hii ben avaunced: Unkynde to hire kyn and to alle Cristene, Chewen hire charite and chiden after moore - Swich chastite withouten charite worth cheyned in helle.

For if hevene be on this erthe, and ese to any soule,It is in cloistre or in scole.

Who will bell the cat?