Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

Madame, ye ben of al beautè shryne As fer as cercled is the mappemounde; For as the cristal glorious ye shyne, And lyke ruby ben your chekes rounde.

Your duty is, as ferre as I can gesse.

Then you compared a woman's love to Hell,
To barren land where water will not dwell,
And you compared it to a quenchless fire,
The more it burns the more is its desire
To burn up everything that burnt can be.
You say that just as worms destroy a tree
A wife destroys her husband and contrives,
As husbands know, the ruin of their lives.

He hath considered shortly, in a clause
The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause,
And althogh that his ire hir gilt accused,
Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excused,
As thus: he thoghte wel that every man
Wol helpe himself in love if that he kan,
And eek delivere himself out of prisoun;

you are the cause by which I die

I know that my singing doesn’t make the moon rise, nor does it make the stars shine. But without my song, the night would seem empty and incomplete. There is more to daybreak than light, just as there is more to nighttime than darkness.

Forbid Us Something and That Thing we Desire

What more should I say, but that the Miller would not his words forebear for any man, and told his vulgar tale in his own way. I regret that I must repeat it here and, therefore, of every refined person I pray, for the love of God, think not that I speak with evil intent, but I must relate all the stories as they are told, be they better or worse, or else be untrue to myself and my design. And, therefore, he who wishes not to read it, turn over the leaf and choose another tale. For he shall find enough, great and small, of historical matters that touch upon gentility, and also morality and holiness. Blame me not if you should choose amiss.

Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge
With-inne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho
That hadden prys, now wonder nyce and straunge
Us thinketh hem; and yet they spake hem so,
And spedde as wel in love as men now do.

the guilty think all talk is of themselves.

His spirit changed house, and vanished there, Where I have not been, so cannot say where.

Ye sey right sooth; this Monk he clappeth lowde.
He spak how Fortune covered with a clowde
I noot nevere what; and als of a tragedie
Right now ye herde, and pardee, no remedie
It is for to biwaille ne compleyne
That that is doon, and als it is a peyne,
As ye han seyd, to heere of hevynesse.
Sire Monk, namoore of this, so God yow blesse!
Youre tale anoyeth al this compaignye.
Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye,

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

Look well that you unto no vice assent, lest you be damned for your evil intent. For she who does so is a traitor, certainly. And take heed of what I shall say: of all the treasons, the greatest wickedness is the betrayal of innocence.