Robert Test, writing about his eventual demise, said this: The day will come when my body will lie in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying. Don’t call this my deathbed. Let it be called the bed of life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives. Give my eyes to a man who has never seen a sunrise. Give my heart to someone whose own heart has caused nothing but pain. Give my blood to the teenager pulled from the wreckage of his car. Give my kidneys to someone who depends on a machine to exist. Then scatter the ashes of what is left of me to the winds to help the flowers grow; and if you must bury something let it be my faults and prejudices. Then, if by chance you wish to remember me, do it with a kind word or deed to someone who needs it; and I will live forever.