On a recent evening dog walk when my daughter was home I described an unsatisfying attempt at crushing mint in a plastic cup for a mojito. She responded that in Italy she really learned the importance of the right container for the soul of a beverage. She began to describe different ways of serving coffee and how it affected the taste, Then she stopped herself and said... "Oh yeah, I forgot who I was talking to, you know all about that don't you.
"Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.
--Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451