Alasdair Maclean, 21 January 1982
Here they live and are themselves for there is nothing else to be; it is a land for gentlemen.
They do not speak here of the beauty all around them, being labouring class and used to burdens. And the years come and go, dragging their feet in true Lewis fashion.
I may leave tomorrow. All day counting seagulls, then back to the hotel: lotus and potatoes yet again!
You could not start a revolution...