Francois Villon Quotes

• Prince, je congnois tout en somme, Je congnois coulourez et blesmes, Je congnois Mort qui tout consomme, Je congnois tout, fors que moy mesmes.
• Freres humains qui apres nous vivez, N'avez les cuers contre nous endurcis.
• Bien est verte que j'ay ame Et ameroie voulentiers; Mais triste cuer, ventre affame Qui n'est rassasie au tiers M'oste des amoureux sentiers. Au fort, quelqu'ung s'en recompence, Qui est ramply sur les chantiers! Car la dance vient de la pance.
• Mes jours s'en sont allez errant.
• Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?
• 'De chiens, d'oyseaulx, d'armes, d'amous,' Chascun le dit a la vollee, 'Pour une joye cent doulours.'
• Folles amours font le gens bestes: Salmon en ydolatria, Samson en perdit ses lunettes. Bien est eureux qui riens n'y a!
• En ceste foy je vueil vivre et mourir.
• Deux estions et n'avions qu'ung cuer.
• Mais, quoy que soit du laboureux mestier, Il n'est tresor que de vivre a son aise.
• Prince, aux dames Parisiennes De beau parler donnez le pris; Quoy qu'on die d'Italiennes, Il n'est bon bec que de Paris.
• Vente, gresle, gelle, j'ay mon pain cuit. Ie suis paillart, la paillarde me suit. Lequel vault mieulx? Chascun bien s'entresuit. L'ung vault l'autre; c'est a mau rat mau chat. Ordure amons, ordure nous assuit; Nous deffuyons onneur, il nous deffuit, En ce bordeau ou tenons nostre estat.
• The Large Testament is a hurly-burly of cynical and sentimental reflections about life, jesting legacies to friends and enemies, and, interspersed among these many admirable ballades, both serious and absurd. With so free a design, no thought that occurred to him would need to be dismissed without expression; and he could draw at full length the portrait of his own bedevilled soul, and of the bleak and blackguardly world which was the theatre of his exploits and sufferings. If the reader can conceive something between the slap-dash inconsequence of Byron's Don Juan and the racy humorous gravity and brief noble touches that distinguish the vernacular poems of Burns, he will have formed some idea of Villon's style. To the latter writer - except in the ballades, which are quite his own, and can be paralleled from no other language known to me - he bears a particular resemblance.
• Villon, our sad bad glad mad brother's name.
• There has been no greater artist in French verse, as there has been no greater poet; and the main part of the history of poetry in France is the record of a long forgetting of all that Villon found out for himself.
• But where is last year's snow? This was the greatest care that Villon, the Parisian poet, took.

francois villon