Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes

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.

Go, litel bok, go, litel myn tragedye,

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.

We’re like two dogs in battle on their own;
They fought all day but neither got the bone,
There came a kite above them, nothing loth,
And while they fought he took it from them both.

Yow loveres axe I now this questioun, Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun? 490 That oon may seen his lady day by day, But in prison he moot dwelle alway. That other wher him list may ryde or go, But seen his lady shal he never-mo. Now demeth as yow liste, ye that can, 495 For I wol telle forth as I bigan. Explicit prima Pars. Sequitur pars secunda.

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.

Ful craftier to pley she was Than Athalus, that made the game First of the ches: so was his name.

The Wife of Bath A good Wife was there from Bath. She was somewhat deaf, and that was a pity. Of cloth-making had she such a skill that she surpassed even the weavers of Ypres and of Ghent. In all the Parish there was no Wife who dared precede her to the offering at Mass; and, if perchance one did, it was certain so wrathful was she that she forgot all thoughts of charity.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

A thousand tymes have I herd men telle, That ther is joye in heven, and peyne in helle; And I acorde wel that hit is so; But natheles, yit wot I wel also, That ther nis noon dwelling in this contree, That either hath in heven or helle y-be, Ne may of hit non other weyes witen, But as he hath herd seyd, or founde hit writen; For by assay ther may no man hit preve. But god forbede but men shulde leve Wel more thing then men han seen with yë! Men shal nat wenen every-thing a lyë But-if him-self hit seeth, or elles dooth; For, god wot, thing is never the lasse sooth, Thogh every wight ne may hit nat y-see. Bernard the monk ne saugh nat al, parde!

"Chese now," quod she, "oon of thise thynges tweye:
To han me foul and old til that I deye,
And be to yow a trewe, humble wyf,
And nevere yow displese in al my lyf,
Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair,
And take youre aventure of the repair
That shal be to youre hous by cause of me,
Or in som oother place, may wel be.
Now chese yourselven, wheither that yow liketh."

it's like being attacked by a RAT!

Amor vincit omnia

You are the cause by which I die.

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