If we took Chaucer's writings at face value, we'd have to conclude he was a complete drip.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
The Italian prose tale had begun to exercise that influence as early as Chaucer's time: but circumstances and atmosphere were as yet unfavourable for its growth.
He was a tubby little chap who looked as if he had been poured into his clothes and had forgotten to say 'when!'
He did not arrive at this conclusion by the decent process of quiet, logical deduction, nor yet by the blinding flash of glorious intuition, but by the shoddy, untidy process halfway between the two by which one usually gets to know things.
In the morning, Capra would arrive with twenty-or-so pages in which he'd written down all of his ideas. Most were terrible, then all of a sudden there would be one which was astounding.
No one, ever, wrote anything as well even after one drink as he would have done with out it.
He who would begun has half done. Dare to be wise; begin.
There are two things that will be believed of any man whatsoever, and one of them is that he has taken to drink.
A drop of water, if it could write out its own history, would explain the universe to us.
In another life I would be a medievalist. I loved Chaucer, far more than Shakespeare.
He that has satisfied his thirst turns his back on the well.