Both James Lovelock and I are optimists by birth. We were born a year after a world war—he the first, and I the second. Both were years of indomitable optimism.

Addendum (October 24, 2016)

Indeed, 1919 and 1946 must have much in common. To begin with, peace spells the end of all wars, not just the last and mind-boggling one. Next, spirits are uplifted by the sight of innumerable pregnancies followed by an explosion of children. Last, years of growing hardship are finally over and the future beckons brightly for all. The good cheer lasts for four or five years at least, and the newborns grow up elated to be alive. The world is theirs, or so they believe to be the case. And they start understanding their delusion only when they reach adulthood, if ever. In this context, those born in 1919 were not as lucky as those born in 1946, for they just reached adulthood when another world war started in earnest. Still, the optimism of their early years remained unblemished, for it was formative. Ah, if only I had a chance to talk about all this with Lovelock! I am quite sure we would end up by hugging each other. As well as shedding a tear of unheralded communion.