Geoffrey Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer, known as the Father of English literature, is widely considered the greatest English poet of the Middle Ages and was the first poet to be buried in Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
running lap want
Everybody wants to go to the Super Bowl. Nobody wants to run laps.
cloak knife
The smiler with the knife under the cloak
hath inspired march
Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The
abstinence approved
Abstinence is approved of God.
inspirational-love farewell love-is
For there is one thing I can safely say: that those bound by love must obey each other if they are to keep company long. Love will not be constrained by mastery; when mastery comes, the God of love at once beats his wings, and farewell he is gone. Love is a thing as free as any spirit; women naturally desire liberty, and not to be constrained like slaves; and so do men, if I shall tell the truth.
misty
For I have seyn of a ful misty morwe Folowen ful ofte a myrie someris day.
canterbury-tales middle-english canterbury
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
walls-have-ears woods fields
That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.
thankfulness looks look-up
Look up on high, and thank the God of all.
kindness als kind
Fo lo, the gentil kind of the lioun! For when a flye offendeth him or byteth, He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth Al esily, for, of his genterye, Him deyneth net to wreke him on a flye, As cloth a curre or elles another beste.
mind-love stories kind
A yokel mind loves stories from of old, Being the kind it can repeat and hold.
venus youth sin
Alas, alas, that ever love was sin! I ever followed natural inclination Under the power of my constellation And was unable to deny, in truth, My chamber of Venus to a likely youth.
sauce woe culinary
Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.
time may
For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.