Let's build us a happy, little cloud that floats around the sky.

Looka yonder! Looka yonder! A big black cloud come!

Solemnly seemest like a vapoury cloud To rise before me — Rise, oh, ever rise; Rise like a cloud of incense from the earth! Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills, Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.

Whisper your dream to a cloud.
Ask the cloud to remember it.

Hole in the sky I'm coming I’m coming with you.

Clouds signify the veil of the Most High.

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.

The clouds, and not the stars, to them
The omen and the sign be given—
The clouds, the vapours of our soil,
Not stars, whose element is heaven.
The deepening shade, the flitting light,
Mark what each coming month will know—
The passing joy, the constant care,
Of life's sad pilgrimage below.

For there is a cloud on my horizon. A small dark cloud no bigger than my hand. Its name is Progress.

If you wanna see the future, Go stare into a cloud.

My only sketch, profile of heaven, is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June — and in it are my friends — every one of them.

The sky is an enormous man.

That saints will aid if men will call: For the blue sky bends over all!

Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.