Among thousands of people, you meet those you've met. Through thousands of years, across the boundless wilderness of time, you happen to meet them, neither earlier nor a bit too late. There is nothing to be said except to ask lightly, "Oh, you're here too?"
They just keep trotting back and forth across the bridge thinking there is something better on the other side. If they'd hang head down at the top of the thing and wait quietly, maybe something good would come along. But no—with men it's rush, rush, rush, every minute. I'm glad I'm a sedentary spider.
