It was going well.

We were going to the Champagne.

It was funny going along that road.

“Where are we going, Dad?” Nick asked.

Who the hell is going to make any trouble?

What she is going through is called being in labor.

“This lady is going to have a baby, Nick,” he said.

“But how is the movement going in Italy?” he asked.

“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently.

The whole battery was drunk going along the road in the dark.

There was a great shouting going on in the grandstand overhead.

From Smith’s back door Liz could see ore barges way out in the lake going toward Boyne City.

I was rather literary in college⁠—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News⁠—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.”