Gan Quotes

Or as an ook comth of a litel spir, So thorugh this lettre, which that she hym sente, Encressen gan desir, of which he brente. (Geoffrey Chaucer)
Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake. View quote
Geoffrey Chaucer
The silver snarling trumpets 'gan to chide. View quote
John Keats
We lived in the provincial town of Ramat Gan where I spent most of my youth adjacent to the chess board. View quote
Arnon Goldfinger
A fearful thing stood at the cloister's end And eyed him for a while, then 'gan to wend Adown the cloisters, and began again That rattling, and the moan like fiends in pain. And as it came on towards him, with its teeth The body of a slain goat did it tear, The blood whereof in its hot jaws did seethe, And on its tongue he saw the smoking hair; Then his heart sank, and standing trembling there, Throughout his mind wild thoughts and fearful ran: "Some fiend she was," he said, "the bane of man." Yet he abode her still, although his blood Curdled within him: the thing dropped the goat, And creeping on, came close to where he stood, And raised its head to him and wrinkled throat. Then he cried out and wildly at her smote, Shutting his eyes, and turned and from the place Ran swiftly, with a white and ghastly face. View quote
William Morris
For which he wex a litel red for shame, Whan he the peple upon him herde cryen, That to beholde it was a noble game, How sobreliche he caste doun his yen. Criseyda gan al his chere aspyen, And let so softe it in her herte sinke That to herself she seyde, "Who yaf me drinke?”. View quote
Geoffrey Chaucer
Do you get tired, singing?” she asked. Gan Itai laughed quietly. "Does a mother grow tired raising her children? Of course, but it is what I do. View quote
Tad Williams
For he owre englishe gilte with his sawes, Rude and boistous firste be olde dawes, That was ful fer from al perfeccioun And but of litel reputacioun Til that he cam, and thorugh his poetrie, Gan oure tonge firste to magnifie And adourne it with his eloquence: To whom honour, laude and reuerence. View quote
John Lydgate
Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind All unseen 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. View quote
William Shakespeare