A Poem by John Donne
No man is an island, entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent, a
part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as
well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of
thy friends or of thine own were;
any man's death diminishes me, because I am
involved in mankind;
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for
thee.