51 Insightful Quotes By Geoffrey Chaucer, The Father Of English Literature
London, United Kingdom
Geoffrey Chaucer was the first writer to use English language in his works. He was exalted for his work, ‘The Canterbury Tales’. Geoffrey is considered to be the ‘Father of English Literature’ and the first poet to be buried at the ‘Poets Coroner’ at Westminster Abbey. Besides being an astronomer, author and philosopher he also served as a bureaucrat, diplomat and courtier. ‘The Book of the Duchess’ was his first major work. His writings covered varied topics and through these he expressed his thoughts, which became popular as quotations and sayings. His later books like ‘The House of Fame’, 'Troilus and Criseyde', 'Parlement of Foules' and 'The Legend of Good Women' earned him recognition. He is believed to have died in October 1400, as no further furnished records were found. His writings, essays, sayings and quotes were a work of art. We have put together a collection of some of his notable quotes.
Patience is a conquering virtue. The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne. What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing. People can die of mere imagination If gold rusts, what then can iron do? Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people No empty handed man can lure a bird Forbid Us Something and That Thing we Desire . . . 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. . . . Life is short. Art long. Opportunity is fleeting. Expierience treacherous. Judgement difficult. 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. How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination. The guilty think all talk is of themselves. And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. Ful wys is he that kan himselve knowe. I will eviscerate you in fiction. Every pimple, every character flaw. I was naked for a day; you will be naked for eternity.
A Knight's Tale Love will not be constrain'd by mastery.
When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon
Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone.
Love is a thing as any spirit free. By God, if women had written stories,
As clerks had within here oratories,
They would have written of men more wickedness
Than all the mark of Adam may redress. But Christ's lore and his apostles twelve,
He taught and first he followed it himself. 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. All that glitters is not gold, One flesh they are; and one flesh, so I'd guess,
Has but one heart, come grief or happiness. You are the cause by which I die. 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 For hym was levere have at his beddes heed
Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,
Of Aristotle and his philosophie,
Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie. And once he had got really drunk on wine,
Then he would speak no language but Latin. For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,
No wonder is a common man should rust"
-The Prologue of Chaucers Canterbury Tales- Time and Tide wait for no man And high above, depicted in a tower,
Sat Conquest, robed in majesty and power,
Under a sword that swung above his head,
Sharp-edged and hanging by a subtle thread. Youre tale anoyeth al this compaignye.
Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye, The man who has no wife is no cuckold. And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? I'll die for stifled love, by all that's true. For thus men seyth, "That on thenketh the beere,
But al another thenketh his ledere. It is ful fair a man to bere him evene,/For alday meeteth men at unset stevene. Be nat wrooth, my lord, though that I pleye. Ful ofte in game a sooth I have herd seye! O woman’s counsel is so often cold! A woman’s counsel brought us first to woe, Made Adam out of Paradise to go Where he had been so merry, so well at ease. Lo, which a greet thing is affeccioun!
Men may die of imaginacioun,
So depe may impressioun be take. When that Aprille with his shoures sote.
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertue engendred is the flour. By God," quod he, "for pleynly, at a word,
Thy drasty rymyng is nat worth a toord! And shame it is, if that a priest take keep, To see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep:
Three years went by in happiness and health; He bore himself so well in peace and war That there was no one Theseus valued more.
Men may the wise atrenne, and naught atrede.
Then the Miller fell off his horse.
For sondry scoles maken sotile clerkis;
Womman of manye scoles half a clerk is.
Ne nevere mo ne lakked hire pite;
Tendre-herted, slydynge of corage;
But trewely, I kan nat telle hire age.
Thus in this heaven he took his delight And smothered her with kisses upon kisses Till gradually he came to know where bliss is. But of no nombre mencioun made he, Of bigamye, or of octogamye33. Why sholde men thanne speke of it vileinye34?