Life
Divine was born in Binghamton, New York (January 20, 1889) and graduated from Cornell University in 1911, where he worked for The Cornell Daily Sun and was a member of the Quill and Dagger society. He worked as a reporter for the New York Sun until 1916, when he became a full-time writer. In 1917 he enlisted (having been rejected at first for being underweight) and fought in France in the 27th Division. Following the war he published books of poems and plays up to 1936, when he took up farming. Subsequently he was a Senior Instructor in English in Triple Cities College, Endicott, until 1948. He adapted two of his short plays for comedy films. His novel Cognac Hill was about love on the Western Front. In addition to his books he published more than 100 short stories. Some of his poems were reprinted in magazines during the Second World War and a line from one of them, At the Lavender Lantern (referring to a café in Greenwich Village), inspired the name of a book Onions in the Stew. He died May 8, 1950 in Bay Pines, Florida.
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Famous quotes containing the word life:
“Continual success in obtaining those things which a man from time to time desireth, that is to say, continual prospering, is that men call FELICITY; I mean Felicity of this life. For there is no such thing as perpetual Tranquillity of mind, while we live here; because Life it self is but Motion, and can never be without Desire, nor without Faeroe, no more than without Sense.”
—Thomas Hobbes (1579–1688)
“I can entertain the proposition that life is a metaphor for boxing—for one of those bouts that go on and on, round following round, jabs, missed punches, clinches, nothing determined, again the bell and again and you and your opponent so evenly matched it’s impossible not to see that your opponent is you.... Life is like boxing in many unsettling respects. But boxing is only like boxing.”
—Joyce Carol Oates (b. 1938)
“All of life and human relations have become so incomprehensibly complex that, when you think about it, it becomes terrifying and your heart stands still.”
—Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860–1904)