Myself. "Uncommonly little."
Spirit. "Do you remember your lives as elementals?"
Myself (definitely). "No!"
Spirit. "Then where do you suppose yourselves to begin?"
Myself. "We don't know. There are various guesses. None of them particularly likely."
Spirit. "Such as?"
Myself. "Oh, some of us believe that the soul or spirit is a special creation made by a higher power we call God, and breathed into the body at birth. And some that the soul or spirit, itself eternal, finds a temporary house in the body, and progresses from one to another with intervals between each incarnation."
Spirit. "Then this being born is what we should call dying?"
Myself. "Quite. It makes no difference. And, as a matter of fact, the overwhelming majority of us—that is to say, all but about one in every million—never bother our heads where we came from, or what's likely to happen to us when we die, or are born, as you would call it."
I have a note here that after this we were both silent for about ten minutes.