Something is always happening somewhere.

The world has a habit of going on.

It's always something.

The world is a never-ending cross-reference.

You can know the whole world and still feel lost in it.

Well, a wish, some wish, Ruth said. Well, I wished that this world wouldn’t end. This world, this world, Ruth said softly.

The world is always ending, for someone.

She referred to the high-rise as if it were some kind of huge animate presence, brooding over them and keeping a magisterial eye on the events taking place.

There was more known, but always more to be known.
Yes, she thought, and the unknown can masquerade as the unknowable.

She would tell her that endings are also beginnings, we just don't know it at the time.

The world is teeming; anything can happen.

Of course there's something there; unfortunately, there's always something 'there.' Something you will one day be sorry you ever saw.

What's going on out there," Rheinhardt said, "is there are like a few billion people walking around and every one of them has a head with a lot of stuff going on in it.

We would do what we must. The world is big. Surely there is a space in it for one like you and one like me.