Life that did not yearn toward life was in fair way toward ceasing. - Jack London

In this manner had fought forgotten ancestors. They quickened the old life within him, the old tricks which they had stamped into the heredity of the breed were his tricks... 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.

You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.

The myriads that raise the cry of hunger wail in the greatest empire in the world