“Thus in this heaven he took his delight And smothered her with kisses upon kisses Till gradually he came to know where bliss is.”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
“Men may the wise atrenne, and naught atrede.”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
“For thus men seyth, "That on thenketh the beere,
But al another thenketh his ledere.”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
“And after winter folweth grene May.”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
“Ne nevere mo ne lakked hire pite;
Tendre-herted, slydynge of corage;
But trewely, I kan nat telle hire age.”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
“Go litel bok, go, litel myn tragedye,
Ther God thi makere yet, er that he dye,
So sende myght to make in som comedye!
But litel book, no makyng thow n'envie,
But subgit be to alle poesye;
And kis the steppes where as thow seest pace
Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, and Stace.”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
“Go, litel bok, go, litel myn tragedye,”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, quote from Troilus and Criseyde
Geoffrey Chaucer
Born place: London, England
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“When You Return
Fallen leaves will climb back into trees.
Shards of the shattered vase will rise
and reassemble on the table.
Plastic raincoats will refold
into their flat envelopes. The egg,
bald yolk and its transparent halo,
slide back in the thin, calcium shell.
Curses will pour back into mouths,
letters un-write themselves, words
siphoned up into the pen. My gray hair
will darken and become the feathers
of a black swan. Bullets will snap
back into their chambers, the powder
tamped tight in brass casings. Borders
will disappear from maps. Rust
revert to oxygen and time. The fire
return to the log, the log to the tree,
the white root curled up
in the un-split seed. Birdsong will fly
into the lark’s lungs, answers
become questions again.
When you return, sweaters will unravel
and wool grow on the sheep.
Rock will go home to mountain, gold
to vein. Wine crushed into the grape,
oil pressed into the olive. Silk reeled in
to the spider’s belly. Night moths
tucked close into cocoons, ink drained
from the indigo tattoo. Diamonds
will be returned to coal, coal
to rotting ferns, rain to clouds, light
to stars sucked back and back
into one timeless point, the way it was
before the world was born,
that fresh, that whole, nothing
broken, nothing torn apart.”
― Ellen Bass, quote from Like a Beggar
“I’m going to enjoy making you come on my cock, my fingers, and in my mouth. My sex is going to set a standard that no man has ever reached, and nor will another man get a fucking chance to.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sordid Promise
“Mejor es adquirir sabiduría que el oro, y adquirir entendimiento vale más que la plata.”
― The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, quote from The LDS Scriptures: Unabridged Complete King James Version Holy Bible /The Book of Mormon / Doctrine and Covenants / The Pearl of Great Price
“Every day of your life, you are faced with opportunities. Unfortunately, the choices that face you are not heroic choices. They are bamboo tree choices. They are small, but progressive choices that steer you in a positive direction and over time you're bound to meet success. For most of us, we spend all our lives waiting for that life changing moment that will change the course of our lives and make us successful. Unfortunately, the clock is ticking. Every day, we choose not to tend to our bamboo tree, a choice is made for us and by the time we realize it, the seasons have passed and we have nothing to show for it.”
― Mary Maina, quote from The Proverbs 31 Lady: Unveiling Her Secrets Before Saying I Do
“Man tends to regard the order he lives in as natural. The houses he passes on his way to work seem more like rocks rising out of the earth than like products of human hands. He considers the work he does in his office or factory as essential to the harmonious functioning of the world. The clothes he wears are exactly what they should be, and he laughs at the idea that he might equally well be wearing a Roman toga or medieval armor. He respects and envies a minister of state or a bank director, and regards the possession of a considerable amount of money the main guarantee of peace and security. He cannot believe that one day a rider may appear on a street he knows well, where cats sleep and children play, and start catching passers-by with his lasso. He is accustomed to satisfying those of his physiological needs which are considered private as discreetly as possible, without realizing that such a pattern of behavior is not common to all human societies. In a word, he behaves a little like Charlie Chaplin in The Gold Rush, bustling about in a shack poised precariously on the edge of a cliff.
His first stroll along a street littered with glass from bomb-shattered windows shakes his faith in the "naturalness" of his world. The wind scatters papers from hastily evacuated offices, papers labeled "Confidential" or "Top Secret" that evoke visions of safes, keys, conferences, couriers, and secretaries. Now the wind blows them through the street for anyone to read; yet no one does, for each man is more urgently concerned with finding a loaf of bread. Strangely enough, the world goes on even though the offices and secret files have lost all meaning. Farther down the street, he stops before a house split in half by a bomb, the privacy of people's homes-the family smells, the warmth of the beehive life, the furniture preserving the memory of loves and hatreds-cut open to public view. The house itself, no longer a rock, but a scaffolding of plaster, concrete, and brick; and on the third floor, a solitary white bath tub, rain-rinsed of all recollection of those who once bathed in it. Its formerly influential and respected owners, now destitute, walk the fields in search of stray potatoes. Thus overnight money loses its value and becomes a meaningless mass of printed paper. His walk takes him past a little boy poking a stick into a heap of smoking ruins and whistling a song about the great leader who will preserve the nation against all enemies. The song remains, but the leader of yesterday is already part of an extinct past.”
― Czesław Miłosz, quote from The Captive Mind
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Evil GamesBookQuoters is a community of passionate readers who enjoy sharing the most meaningful, memorable and interesting quotes from great books. As the world communicates more and more via texts, memes and sound bytes, short but profound quotes from books have become more relevant and important. For some of us a quote becomes a mantra, a goal or a philosophy by which we live. For all of us, quotes are a great way to remember a book and to carry with us the author’s best ideas.
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