Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam; Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
Edward Young (1837). “The Complaint and Consolation; Or, Night Thoughts on Life, Death and Immortality: To which is Added, The Force of Religion”, p.204
