No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe;
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 Manor 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.