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No Man Is an Island

By John Donne

No man is an island,entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.  If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were.  Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

I wrote and talked about the topic of solitude weeks ago on my English class, saying that it was the non-staple food in my life, which does not mean that I have no human companionship, I do have and I do attach great importance to it, and the poem can somehow portrait that the state of being a member of society is dispensable for a human being, whether alive or dead.  

The metaphor John Donne used is nice, comparing every single man to a piece of clod.  Thousands of clods formed the continent.  But I think I have a more suitable one, that is every single man is a drop of water in the oceans.  All together they form the ocean.  They are born with conception of community, their destinies are to exist as a entity.  The power joined by countless drops of water contribute to the dignity of the mysterious word “ocean”, making people yearning and frightened at the same time.  They cannot leave each other, or they will soon be dried out.   They are constantly flowing in all directions, getting touch with any other drops of water with the unknown potentials. (unfinished)

 

 

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