Geoffrey Chaucer

If love be good, from whence cometh my woe?

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Forbede us thing, and that desiren we; Preesse on us faste, and thanne wol we flee. With daunger oute we al ourechaffare:…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Hard is the heart that loveth nought In May.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

There was the murdered corpse, in covert laid, And violent death in thousand shapes displayed; The city to the soldier's rage resigned;…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“It is ful fair a man to bere him evene,/For alday meeteth men at unset stevene.”

— Geoffrey Chaucer

And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach

— Geoffrey Chaucer

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

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“Then the Miller fell off his horse.”

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Yet do not miss the moral, my good men. For Saint Paul says that all that’s written well Is written down some…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo?”

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“And once he had got really drunk on wine, Then he would speak no language but Latin.”

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Love is a thing aye full of busy dead.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Certes, they been lye to hounds, for an hound when he cometh by the roses, or by other bushes, though he may…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Take a cat, nourish it well with milk and tender meat, make it a couch of silk...

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“Just as there never died a man," quoth he, "But he had lived on earth in some degree, Just so there never…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Great peace is found in little busy-ness.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust, No wonder is a common man should rust" -The Prologue of Chaucers…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Felds hath eyen, and wode have eres.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.

— Geoffrey Chaucer

A bettre preest I trowe that nowher noon ys. He waited after no pompe and reverence Ne maked hym a spiced conscience,…

— Geoffrey Chaucer

“O woman’s counsel is so often cold! A woman’s counsel brought us first to woe, Made Adam out of Paradise to go…

— Geoffrey Chaucer