« Gateway to Skye »

Then the sun appears and scatters the mists encircling the cloud-capped peaks. In a moment the dull leaden sky is clear, and the clouds, rising and scattering, breaking and uniting, produce myriads of shapes and forms, and finally their insubstantial pageant fades leaving not a wrack behind.

Mary Carmichael (Gateway to Skye, 1946)