The clouds were drifting over the moon at their giddiest speed, at one time wholly obscuring her, at another, suffering her to burst forth in full splendor and shed her light on all the objects around; anon, driving over her again, with increased velocity, and shrouding everything in darkness. – Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

Or those war-clouds that gather on the horizon, dragon-crested, tongued with fire;—how is their barbed strength bridled? what bits are these they are champing with their vaporous lips… – John Ruskin, “The Cloud-Balancings”

When I do not walk in the clouds I walk as though I were lost. – Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin