back to Florida, where, if not in church, I decided then certainly back in school, in the works of the great philosophers, the answers would come. At this time, I had finished one year of college, and then had to stay at home a year because of the economic depression. Now through a tremendous effort, I returned to the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, borrowing the money for tuition fees, arranging to help with the housework and care of children in a home about three miles from the campus returned from my room and board, and at the same time, taking a nearly full class load. This busy schedule of homework and classwork was all on the surface. However, because underneath walking back and forth to campus, doing my chores, I became increasingly preoccupied with pursuing my doubts to the limits. During the following year or more, with a disparate intensity. I read the works of the most of the leading Western philosophers from Plato to Spinoza, Hume Berkeley and on to Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and nature. Bradley, kircher, God, Bergson, vidkun, Stein, and others. Fascinating as much of it was, it all seemed fragmented and one sided, nothing satisfied me. Nothing went to the root of my need. I seem to be moving in endless theoretical and verbal circles, chasing a mirage of ultimate finality. At times, I had periods of bleak despair, feeling my quest was hopeless. She had these periods of of despair,