How can you stand me? I can’t even stand me. - Lois McMaster Bujold

Ethan had never found himself clinging to a cusp of human history. The trouble with the position, he found, was that in whatever direction you looked there fell away a glassy, uncontrollable slide down to a strange future you would then have to live in. He had never wanted to pray more, nor been less sure that it would do any good.

You go on. You just go on. There's nothing more to it, and there's no trick to make it easier. You just go on.

He had looked forward to making posthumous reports to Illyan. Now he wondered if he was going to live long enough.