And_when,on_the_still_cold_nights,he_pointed_his_nose_at_a_star
and_howled_long_and_wolflike,it_was_his_ancestors,
dead_and_dust,pointing_nose_at_star_and_howling_down_through_the_centuries
and_through_him.And_his_cadences_were_their_cadences,the_cadences_which_voiced
their_woe_and_what_to_them_was_the_meaning_of_the_stillness,and_the_cold,and_dark.
(J.London
"The_call_of_the_wild")