To the sober, analytic-minded pro fessionals who today dominate the na tion's philosophy departments, William Ernest Hocking would hardly be con sidered a philosopher at all. A courtly old man who puttered about his 650-acre hilltop farm near New Hamp shire's White Mountains, carrying bird seed in his pockets, Hocking customari ly listed his occupation on income tax forms as "writer-farmer." Unfashionably, he dealt with the grand intellec tual themes that have traditionally pre occupied those who love wisdom: God, the nature of man, the meaning of life. Indeed, when he...
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