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 . . . 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.

From "Meditation XVII" of his Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions (1623).

Tomorrow the bell tolls for 2 or 3 lines a day.

2 or 3 lines a day simply required too much time and effort given the relatively small audience it attracted, so I've decided to pull the plug after doing 365 posts.  Those select few of you who read 2 or 3 lines a day regularly were kind enough to send me many kind comments during the year, and I appreciate your loyalty very much.

John Donne

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,

As I have seen in one autumnal face.

These are the opening lines of Donne's Elegy IX: The Autumnal.  

On this day -- which is the last day of summer -- 2 or 3 lines a day pays tribute to autumnal faces . . . and to autumnal bodies, hearts, and minds.

John Donne

John Donne

License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.

O, my America, my Newfoundland!

(From his Elegy #19, "To His Mistress Going to Bed."  Who knew that John Donne was such a horndog?)

John Donne