It is nothing new.
I have been here before.
In the lives of all my fathers have I been here.
The frost is on my cheek,
the salt bites my nostrils,
the wind chants in my ears, and it is an old happening.
I know, now, that my forebears were Vikings.
I was seed of them in their own day.
With them I have raided English coasts,
dared the Pillars of Hercules,
forayed the Mediterranean,
and sat in the high place of government
over the soft sun-warm peoples.
I am Hengist and Horsa;
I am of the ancient heroes even legendary to them.
I have bearded and bitted the frozen seas,
and, aforetime of that,
ere ever the ice ages came to be,
I have dripped my shoulders in reindeer gore,
slain the mastodon and the sabre-tooth,
scratched the record of my prowess
on the walls of deep buried caves – ay,
and suckled she-wolves side by side with my brother cubs,
the scars of whose fangs are now upon me.
Jack London.
Cosmotheism Now! 