Many a true word is spoken in jest Geoffrey Chaucer More Quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer More Quotes From Geoffrey Chaucer Many small make a great. Geoffrey Chaucer science There was the murdered corpse, in covert laid, Geoffrey Chaucer fightingwardeath For tyme ylost may nought recovered be. Geoffrey Chaucer maytime Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting. Geoffrey Chaucer woecookingfood In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower. Geoffrey Chaucer flowerspringsweet Men love newfangleness. Geoffrey Chaucer progressmen But Christ's lore and his apostles twelve, Geoffrey Chaucer twelvetaughtfirsts The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people. Geoffrey Chaucer ministrywisdompeople Who looks at me, beholdeth sorrows all, All pain, all torture, woe and all distress; I have no need on other harms to call, As anguish, languor, cruel bitterness, Discomfort, dread, and madness more and less; Methinks from heaven above the tears must rain In pity for my harsh and cruel pain. Geoffrey Chaucer painrainheaven In the stars is written the death of every man. Geoffrey Chaucer starsmendeath Patience is a conquering virtue. Geoffrey Chaucer canterbury-talesconquervirtue Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne. Geoffrey Chaucer Death is the end of every worldly pain. Geoffrey Chaucer painendsdeath And she was fair as is the rose in May. Geoffrey Chaucer flowerrosemay My house is small, but you are learned men And by your arguments can make a place Twenty foot broad as infinite as space. Geoffrey Chaucer spacefeetmen In love there is but little rest. Geoffrey Chaucer littles Soun is noght but air ybroken, And every speche that is spoken, Loud or privee, foul or fair, In his substaunce is but air; For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke, Right so soun is air ybroke. Geoffrey Chaucer foulloudair Great peace is found in little busy-ness. Geoffrey Chaucer busyfoundlittles Forbid us something, and that thing we desire. Geoffrey Chaucer desire 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. Geoffrey Chaucer gone-lovefarewelllove-is
