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 Promonterie 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 find for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
For my Mother.
8.iv.1926 - 17.iv.2019