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Jacob H. Kyle Biography

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“If I am seen to be strong it is because I shall be the first to fall. What courage you sample in my visage is only determinable in defiance for which my ambitions differ entirely. What right have I to speak for those whose suffering exceeds my past, whose fates were obliterated and will ape no more? Shall I expect to inherit this latent expansion for the sort we safely cannot conceive who do not yet suffer emptily? Late morning in a general practice waiting room, do they sleep only of exhaustion?”

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Book:The Tedium Lies
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“When I wake to consider the vaporous aether of our universe, everything feels as though contained within an impenetrably dark infinitely expanding bubble through which the empty space overtaken is sacrificially loaned unto a mockery of its antithesis, across waning dales where the dead retire, to be reclaimed by this cosmic tide, recycled, reincarnated into further being, a self-renewing system of cacophonous consignment inuring one maniacal God His baseless funereal watch, an elementary decree whose advantage succeeds into everlasting fire.”

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Book:The Tedium Lies
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“Much of the world’s scripture denigrates what would ultimately steer an honest life, one that sanctifies gnomic courage without sacrifice to the will of He who watches from afar like a colosseum of resentment, like a festering cradle, entertaining incredible patience for the whole charade, the agonising anthill, the starving labyrinth, the enclosure of His vain architectural prominence erected in order for more abject varieties of vying death, blind and maimed, to appease prolonged viewing till the whole extinction of man.”

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Book:The Tedium Lies
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“No veils, no aliases. No duty, no blame. These green woods are without thought, nameless are its denizens. They lead into a waking dream. A dream with nothing to dream. Nothing to conjure nor relate. No effort to pursue nor resist. To sleep among root and rock… Why harbour identity where there is none? What good governs here where you are nothing? Your recitals without audience, your words without paper. The clanless hermit conceives of his own visage twisted in the shady stream. He carves not hideous figures and faces from the kindling but burns it. He dances not with a head of sprig to impress the elves. A sage must emulate nature from which morality is neutered. Ethics are chaste fodder for undying pyres. That ongoing tumult beyond the forest’s edge shall be yours to lick up and knock over again and again if you so choose… Mankind invents and implies. The crowd accepts or denies. People are always begging pity or scorn from your kind.”

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Book:The Tedium Lies
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