Al the povere peple tho pescoddes fetten; Benes and baken apples thei broghte in hir lappe, Chibolles and chervelles and ripe chiries manye, And profrede Piers this present to plese with Hunger.

There smites nothing so sharp, nor smelleth so sour as shame.

But all the wickedness in the world which man may do or think is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea.

Like father, like son: every good tree maketh good fruits.

In a somer seson, whan softe was the sonne, I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep were, In habite an heremite unholy of werkes, Went wide in this world wondres to here.

For if hevene be on this erthe, and ese to any soule,It is in cloistre or in scole.

I kan noght parfitly my Paternoster as the preest it syngeth,But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood and Randolf Erl of Chestre.

A fair feeld ful of folk fond I ther bitwene -Of alle manere of men, the meene and the riche,Werchynge and wandrynge as the world asketh.

Who will bell the cat?

A life without positive thinking is a dire threat to one's destiny.

The only thing better than singing is more singing.

The achievements of Labour in the years after the Second World War should never be underestimated, but they are now history.

Pride requires very costly food-its keeper's happiness.

The most valuable of all human possessions, next to a superior and disdainful air, is the reputation of being well-to-do.

They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again.

Every writing career starts as a personal quest for sainthood, for self-betterment. Sooner or later, and as a rule quite soon, a man discovers that his pen accomplishes a lot more than his soul.

I was you and never knew it.

Surely 't is better, when summer is over To die when all fair things are fading away.

In our modern world today, we may seem like drowning men because of the loss of much of our spiritual tradition.