Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.

The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.

The moon is at her full, and, riding high,Floods the calm fields with light.The airs that hover in the summer skyAre all asleep to-night.

The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;

Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger