Maxioms by Edward Young
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume;
The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves.
Sense read more
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.
Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.
Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.
Who does the best that circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly, angels could no more.
Who does the best that circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly, angels could no more.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
All men think all men mortal, but themselves.
All men think all men mortal, but themselves.
