No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe;
every man is a peece of the Continent,
a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed
away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse,
as well as if a Promontorie were,
as well as if a Mannor of thy friends
or of thine owne were; any mans death
diminishes me, because I am involved
in Mankinde; And therefore never send
to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.