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Thomas Malory Biography

Sir Thomas Malory (c. 1415 – 14 March 1471) was an English writer, the author or compiler of Le Morte d'Arthur (originally titled, The Whole Book of King Arthur and His Noble Knights of the Round table). Since the late nineteenth century, he has generally been identified as Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold Revel in Warwickshire, a knight, land-owner, and Member of Parliament. Previously, it was suggested by antiquary John Leland and John Bale that he was Welsh (identifying "Malory" with "Maelor").

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Thomas Malory Quotes

And much more am I sorrier for my good knights' loss than for the loss of my fair queen; for queens I might have enough, but such a fellowship of good knights shall never be together in no company.

Knights, Loss, Queen, Queens, Sorrier

What, nephew, said the king, is the wind in that door?

Door, Doors, Kings, Nephew, Said, Wind

Always Sir Arthur lost so much blood that it was a marvel he stood on his feet, but he was so full of knighthood that knightly he endured the pain.

Blood, Feet, Full, Pain

Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross.

Jesu, Kings, Men, Parts, Place, Winning

The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart that is in any manner a lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all lovers courage, that lusty month of May.

Blossom, Deeds, Fruit, Heart, Spring, Tree

For, as I suppose, no man in this world hath lived better than I have done, to achieve that I have done.

Done, Hath, Men, Suppose, World

It was the month of May, the month when the foliage of herbs and trees is most freshly green, when buds ripened and blossoms appear in their fragrance and loveliness. And the month when lovers, subject to the same force which reawakens the plants, feel their hearts open again, recall past trysts and past vows, and moments of tenderness, and yearn for a renewal of the magical awareness which is love.

Heart, Month, Past, Same, Tree, Trysts

The sweetness of love is short-lived, but the pain endures.

Pain, Love Is, Endure, Love, Endures

Nowadays men cannot love seven night but they must have all their desires: that love may not endure by reason; for where they be soon accorded and hasty, heat soon it cooleth. Right so fareth love nowadays, soon hot soon cold: this is no stability. But the old love was not so.

Hot, Love, Men, Night

Enough is as good as a feast.

Gratitude, Philosophy, Hunger, Feast, Enough, Good

With that truncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh in thy body.

Knights, Body, Good, Thy, Sticketh

Queen Guenever, for whom I make here a little mention, that while she lived she was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.

Good, Littles, Lived, Love, Make, Queens

For as well as I have loved thee heretofore, mine heart will not serve now to see thee; for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed.

Destroyed, Flower, Heart, Kings, Loved, Serve

The very purpose of a knight is to fight on behalf of a lady.

Behalf, Fight, Fighting, Knight, Knights, Purpose

The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit.

April And Spring, Bring, Forth, Heart, Lust, Lusty

Then he looked by him, and was ware of a damsel that came riding as fast as her horse might gallop upon a fair palfrey. And when she espied that Sir Lanceor was slain, then she made sorrow out of measure, and said, O Balin ! two bodies hast thou slain and one heart, and two hearts in one body, and two souls thou hast lost.

Gallop, Heart, Horse, Lanceor, Slain, Two

It befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that held war against him long time. And the duke was called the duke of Tintagil.

Kings, War, Book, Long, Cornwall

Wit thou well that I will not live long after thy days.

Days, Long, Mistake, Wit

We shall now seek that which we shall not find

Seek

The joy of love is too short, and the sorrow thereof, and what cometh thereof, dureth over long.

Cometh, Joy, Long, Love Is, Sorrow