"Really, Papa Jack?
I always thought that if I could get up into the clouds I could reach out and touch the moon and the stars.

Of co'se I know bettah now, but I should think I'd be neah enough to see them." "No," answered her father, "that is one of the sad facts of life.

No matter how loudly we may cry for the moon, it is hung too high for us to reach, and the 'forget-me-nots of the angels,' as Longfellow calls the stars, are not for hands like ours to pick.

But in a very little while I think that we shall see the lightning below us.

Those clouds down there are full of rain.