No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man/is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if/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 thy 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.” – John Donne