All these things told him mutely that the world was going on the same as ever; nothing had changed.

In the city men and women were going about their affairs as usual; the smoke rolled up from the great chimneys.

When all is said, our griefs and joys are wholly our own; the outsider does not participate.
Yes, the world went on just the same.

Death makes a vacancy, but the Great Accountant easily fills it; and the summing up of balances goes on.

Let us thank God for the buoyancy of the human spirit, which, however sorely tried, presently rises and assumes its normal interest in life.
Warrington looked dreamily at the grave, and the philosopher in him speculated upon the mystery of it.