A Quote by Geoffrey Chaucer

Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily. — © Geoffrey Chaucer
Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.

Quote Topics

May
Jamie doesn't like to do anything hastily, and I like to do everything incredibly hastily. So therein you have the dichotomy of our patterns.
There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
Those characters wherein fear predominates over hope may apprehend too much from...instances of irregularity. They may conclude too hastily that nature has formed man insusceptible of any other government than that of force, a conclusion not founded in truth nor experience.
So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.
The sound rule in busi­ness is that you may give money freely when you have a sur­plus, but your name never-nei­ther as en­dorser nor as mem­ber of a cor­po­ra­tion with in­di­vid­ual li­a­bil­ity
But in proverbe I have herde say,That who that wel his werk beginneth,The rather a good end he winneth.
You know what my favourite quotation is?.. It's from Chaucer... Criseyde says it, "I am myne owene woman, wel at ese."
I prefer to train alone at SAI camp in Hyderabad. I don't train at national camp at NIS Patiala.
Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. . . . . Til that myn herte dye. . . . . That wel by reson men hit calle may The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day,' The emperice and flour of floures alle. I pray to god that faire mot she falle, And alle that loven floures, for hir sake!
Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
This is what a memorial is: standing still, staring at something that isn’t ther
Ther's no great banquet but some fares ill.
I just sit ther and do what I vowed I would never do - talk back to the television.
And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte, On bakes for to rede I me delyte, And to hem yeve I feyth and ful credence, And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon, That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But hit be seldom, on the holyday; Save, certeynly, when that the month of May Is comen, and that I here the foules singe, And that the floures ginnen for to springe, Farwel my book and my devocion.
Do not believe hastily.
If life's lessons could be reduced to single sentences, ther would be no need for fiction.
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