No man is an Iland…

I placed the two first lines of this famous John Donne’s poem in my mathematics paper as an epigraph. This is the whole poem:

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.

This is MEDITATION XVII from
“Devotions upon Emergent Occasions”
by John Donne, 1623

The date is unbelievable: 400 years ago.