". . . spasms of bleak dust"

I was telling my sister about the question of dust in literature, and she immediately said, "Gatbsy!"

She sent me this excerpt, and while I didn't remember it (haven't read the book in forever), for me it wins the prize of Best Dust in Literature.
"The dust that opens Chapter Two in The Great Gatsby." 

"About half way between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes — a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of gray cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-gray men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight. But above the gray land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg."

[First edition, with the eyes]