‘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 Promontorie 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 know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee….’
John Donne (1624)
Every day’s a death of a child, a wife, a mother, a father, a son. When one woeful wave washes over, a new one has begun. And though reporters’ stories are samplings so small, our Lord knows the whole event. He understands it all.
Learning to Love 