I've always been heavy. As a kid my mother would look for the chubby clothes.

When the rebel in her touched the rebel in him, and the rebel in him touched the rebel in her, their fears incinerated. When his rebel sperm penetrated her rebel egg, that mysterious shimmer burst forth a blinding light, and a calcium wave signaled the information everywhere it could go. It has turned her into a visionary and turned him into a warrior - on a mission to save M. Earth, in the name of love.

I'm relentless. My mother says I could sell ice to the Eskimos.

Perhaps we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we have so conducted or enterprised or sailed in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be like keeping new wine in old bottles.

I was born five days before D-Day in 1944. My father was a mechanical engineer, which was a reserved occupation, so he didn't have to enlist. My mother was a housewife. She worked in a bank before marrying my father.

When no one is watching Mother Earth, and most of the time no one is, she sings softly to herself.
Certainly no one is watching after her, to the point where she's now calling herself M. Earth, using her first initial only, like the early women writers who did not want their work to be automatically dismissed because of their gender disadvantage. Though she is grand, M. Earth is feeling, perhaps, overly feminine, and therefore vulnerable. Don't even mention the word Gaia; it's such a projection! She thinks she could benefit from a more macho profile, a little kick-ass to make her point. Perhaps a little masculine detachment would be helpful, or a thicker skin. Because, frankly, she's been trampled, poisoned, stripped bare, robbed blind, and blamed for just about everything that's come down the pike. And like all mothers, everyone just assumes she'll always be there for them with open, loving arms, and a cup of hot cocoa. That it will be her pleasure to feed them, lick their wounds, and clean a load or two of their dirty laundry. She's looking for a little more respect.