Geoffrey Chaucer Quotations

The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people.

And she was fair as is the rose in May.

There's never a new fashion but it's old.

There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.

Women desire six things: They want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous, obedient to wife, and lively in bed.

The life so short, the crafts so long to learn.

Nowhere so busy a man as he than he, and yet he seemed busier than he was.

Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.

Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves.

He was as fresh as is the month of May.

We know little of the things for which we pray.

Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, And fat his soul, and make his body lean.

Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The

Everybody wants to go to the Super Bowl. Nobody wants to run laps.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

But al thyng which shineth as the gold Nis nat gold, as that I have herd it told

Ful wys is he that can himselven knowe! (Very wise is he that can know himself.)

Full wise is he that can him selven knowe

We little know the things for which we pray.

The smiler with the knife under the cloak

Seeke out ye goode in everie man, and speke of alle the beste ye can; then wil alle men speke wel of thee and say how kynde of hearte ye bee

And brought of mighty ale a large quart.

If gold ruste, what shall iren do?

The proverbe saith that many a smale maketh a grate.

Of harmes two the lesse is for to cheese.

Remember in the forms of speech comes change Within a thousand years, and words that then Were well esteemed, seem foolish now and strange; And yet they spake them so, time and again, And thrived in love as well as any men; And so to win their loves in sundry days, In sundry lands there are as many ways.

I am right sorry for your heavinesse.

Ek gret effect men write in place lite; Th'entente is al, and nat the lettres space.

Yblessed be god that I have wedded fyve! Welcome the sixte, whan that evere he shal.

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.

A yokel mind loves stories from of old, Being the kind it can repeat and hold.

And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte, On bakes for to rede I me delyte, And to hem yeve I feyth and ful credence, And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon, That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But hit be seldom, on the holyday; Save, certeynly, when that the month of May Is comen, and that I here the foules singe, And that the floures ginnen for to springe, Farwel my book and my devocion.

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.

Purity in body and heart May please some--as for me, I make no boast. For, as you know, no master of a household Has all of his utensils made of gold; Some are wood, and yet they are of use.

The bisy larke, messager of day.

Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.

And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach

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.

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.

It is nought good a sleping hound to wake.

Ful wys is he that kan himselve knowe.

If no love is, O God, what fele I so? And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me

No empty handed man can lure a bird

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.

First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.

The latter end of joy is woe.

How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination.

If gold rusts, what then can iron do?

Yet do not miss the moral, my good men. For Saint Paul says that all that’s written well Is written down some useful truth to tell. Then take the wheat and let the chaff lie still.

The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.

Loke who that is most vertuous alway, Prive and apert, and most entendeth ay To do the gentil dedes that he can, And take him for the gretest gentilman.

Mordre wol out, that se we day by day.

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.

Hyt is not al golde that glareth.

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.

He that loveth God will do diligence to please God by his works, and abandon himself, with all his might, well for to do.

With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.

My house is small, but you are learned men And by your arguments can make a place Twenty foot broad as infinite as space.

Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.

So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.

Make a virtue of necessity.

Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee Ye, blessed be alwey, a lewed man That noght but oonly his believe kan! So ferde another clerk with astromye, He walked in the feelds, for to prye Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle.

And when a beest is deed, he hath no peyne; But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne.

The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.

People can die of mere imagination.

But, Lord Crist! whan that it remembreth me Upon my yowthe, and on my jolitee, It tickleth me aboute myn herte roote. Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote That I have had my world as in my tyme. But age, alias! that al wole envenyme, Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith. Lat go, farewel! the devel go therwith! The flour is goon, ther is namoore to telle; The bren, as I best kan, now most I selle.

Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.

For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.

Many a true word is spoken in jest

One cannot scold or complain at every word. Learn to endure patiently, or else, as I live and breathe, you shall learn it whether you want or not.

To keep demands as much skill as to win.

Fie on possession, But if a man be vertuous withal.

Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?

Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.

I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose.

The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.

One eare it heard, at the other out it went.

Look up on high, and thank the God of all.

He who accepts his poverty unhurt I'd say is rich although he lacked a shirt. But truly poor are they who whine and fret and covet what they cannot hope to get.

By nature, men love newfangledness.

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.

Men love newfangleness.

He loved chivalrye Trouthe and honour, freedom and curteisye.

Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. . . . . Til that myn herte dye. . . . . That wel by reson men hit calle may The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day,' The emperice and flour of floures alle. I pray to god that faire mot she falle, And alle that loven floures, for hir sake!

Lat take a cat, and fostre him wel with milk, And tendre flesh, and make his couche of silk, And let him seen a mous go by the wal; Anon he weyveth milk, and flesh, and al, And every deyntee that is in that hous, Swich appetyt hath he to ete a mous.

The Iyf so short, the craft so long to lerne, Thassay so hard, so sharp the conquenng. . . . . For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this newe corn fro yeer to yere; And out of olde bokes, in good feith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.

But Christ's lore and his apostles twelve, He taught and first he followed it himself.

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.

'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'

For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.

One shouldn't be too inquisitive in life Either about God's secrets or one's wife.

Habit maketh no monk, ne wearing of gilt spurs maketh no knight.

Murder will out, this my conclusion.

If were not foolish young, were foolish old.

What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.

For oute of olde feldys, as men sey, Comyth al this newe corn from yer to yere; And out of olde bokis, in good fey, Comyth al this newe science that men lere.

This flour of wifly patience.

In general, women desire to rule over their husbands and lovers, to be the authority above them.

Go, little booke! go, my little tragedie!