now disciplined by the vastness of the descent, he divided his fall into hours. each time the minute hand of his wristwatch completed its circuit, he said to himself, with the conviction reserved for final things, surely this must be the end. but the end withdrew a little farther into the blackness.

he had long ago reached terminal velocity; nothing altered now except his understanding of what it was to have no support. occasionally he thought he glimpsed walls, strata of rock etched with numbers that diminished as he passed, ratios and fragments of charts recording other, earlier catastrophes. but when he tried to focus on them, they dissolved into shadow, as if the pit refused him even the consolation of a pattern.

with each hour, his certainty that the bottom was near grew paradoxically stronger, for he reasoned that an infinite fall would be intolerable and therefore impossible. thus, by an argument that had already been refuted an uncountable number of times, he nourished his faith as he plunged through a world that contained, perhaps, nothing but his fall and his increasingly baroque reasoning that it would soon conclude.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5799459&forum_id=2Reputation#49439901)