Geoffrey Chaucer

The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

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

— Geoffrey Chaucer

If gold rusts, what then can iron do?

— Geoffrey Chaucer

By nature, men love newfangledness.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Al this mene I be love.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Nature, the vicar of the Almightie Lord.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Soun is noght but air ybroken, Right so soun is air ybroke.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For I am shave as neigh as any frere. Beeth hevy again, or elles moot I die.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Harde is his herte that loveth noughtIn Mey, ...

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge In sondry londes, sondry ben usages.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Of harmes two the lesse is for to cheese.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For which he wex a litel red for shame, That to herself she seyde, “Who yaf me drinke?”

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Or as an ook comth of a litel spir, Encressen gan desir, of which he brente.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

It is nought good a slepyng hound to wake.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For of fortunes sharp adversitee And it remembren, whan it passed is.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

He helde about him alway, out of drede, A world of folke.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Love is blind.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Oon ere it herde, at tothir out it wente

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

I am right sorry for your heavinesse.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

And for ther is so gret diversite That thow be understonde, God I biseche!

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Go, little booke! go, my little tragedie!

— Geoffrey Chaucer

O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she, This world, that passeth sone as floures faire.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

And of his port as meke as is a mayde.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne, For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknowe.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For him was lever han at his beddes hed Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Of studie took he most cure and most hede. And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

His studie was but litel on the Bible.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For gold in phisike is a cordial; Therefore he loved gold in special.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf, — That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, He taught; but first he folwed it himselve.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

And yet he had a thomb of gold parde.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Who so shall telle a tale after a man, Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For May wol have no slogardie a-night. And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

And therfore, at the kynges court, my brother, Ech man for hymself, ther is noon other.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

What is this world? what asketh men to have? Allone, withouten any compaignye.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, Deeth is an ende of every worldly soore.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Up rose the sonne, and up rose Emelie.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

To maken vertue of necessite.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Men sholde wedden after hir estat, For youthe and elde is often at debat.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

And brought of mighty ale a large quart.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be, This wol be done at leisure parfitly.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

So was hire joly whistle wel ywette.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

In his owen grese I made him frie.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

I hold a mouses wit not worth a leke, That hath but on hole for to sterten to.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Loke who that is most vertuous alway, And take him for the gretest gentilman.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde, Ay fleeth the tyme; it nyl no man abyde.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

This flour of wifly patience.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Therfore bihoveth hire a ful long spoon That shal ete with a feend.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

They demen gladly to the badder end.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Love is a thyng as any spirit free. And so doon men, if I sooth seyen shal.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

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

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe!

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Mordre wol out, that se we day by day.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

But yet that holden this tale a folly, Taketh the fruit, and let the chaff be still.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Certes, they been lyk to houndes, for an hound whan he comth by the roser, or by other bushes, though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a contenaunce to pisse.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Your duty is, as ferre as I can gesse.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

O little booke, thou art so unconning, How darst thou put thy-self in prees for drede?

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Of all the floures in the mede, Soch that men callen daisies in our toun.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

That well by reason men it call may The emprise, and floure of floures all.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

For iii may keep a counsel if twain be away.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The firste vertue, sone, if thou wilt lere, Is to restreine and kepen wel thy tonge.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

The proverbe saith that many a smale maketh a grate.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

People can die of mere imagination.

— Geoffrey Chaucer