“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“Then it’s possible to walk down the street and meet a fragment of yourself?”)

[...] I thought this was a fine time to do something, anything while I was at it — a visit someplace else, a trip down the street. [...]

At the end of the park basin are a flight of stone steps leading to another street and an old house in which I once lived for a short time. [...]

[...] He will ignore a contented child playing on one side of the street and notice, instead, a dirty ragged child, even though he be further away. [...]

[...] Seth told me I would become a very well-known painter; Ruburt, he said, knew nothing about artists’ agents or their locations in New York City, he said for the record, adding that there is an agent on 62nd street who can be of great help to me. [...]

[...] By masses, Seth said he meant the man in the street. [...]

[...] Next, Jake and I were walking down a street in a town, on our way to see Jane’s mother. [...]

If a dark angry mongrel follows you down the street and you know it and you say to yourself, “It is a fine day and I am alone and there is no dog behind me,” and it yaps at your feet and you say, “It is a lovely day and no dog yaps at my feet,” and it growls at your ankles and you run as fast as you can saying all the time, “Nothing chases me,” and you dare not look back; then in your mind the dog springs from a dog to a tiger, to an unnamable terror. [...]

[...] This came to Jane’s consciousness as we watched a very creative skit on the TV program Sesame Street. [...]

[...] This store is but a few doors down the street—East Water Street.

[...] for the coincidence, so-called, of the meeting on the street between Miss Dineen and the couple is just too much as far as I’m concerned.

[...] I was impressed by the meeting on the street, but equally taken with the fact that Hal had known someone who’d known James. [...]

(Jane began by finding herself as a young girl on a swing at the recreation field across the street from St. Clement’s Catholic Church and School in Saratoga Springs, where she grew up. [...]

[...] Perhaps this is no more than Water Street. [...] There are many connections with the object and our residence of West Water Street, Elmira, NY.

[...] Perhaps this is no more than Water Street. [...]

[...] Like Ruburt I enjoy the wild wind, and there were many nights when we three walked down spring streets together.

Even as Ruburt looks out the window, seemingly through empty space at the street, the so-called space simply is not empty, though through the specialized camouflage senses it may appear to be empty. [...]

[...] How blessed, bodies, leaping alive from the microscopic molecules that combine to walk down the autumn streets; assemble to form the sweet senses’ discrimination that perceives, for a time, the precise joy and unity of even one passing afternoon. [...]

I can enjoy your earthly days when I so choose, and stroll disembodied down your spring streets, and look through Ruburt’s eyes at the winter nights. [...]

[...] We turned most of the lights off; at one point all were off though there was some light from the streets. [...]

[...] I am sorry that I do not move tables as well as AA, but were I interested in moving tables, I can assure that this one would fly through the window and end out in the middle of Water Street! [...]

He is at his worst with you on the street because he does not want to show you up. [...]

(The map of Puerto Rico, brought back by Bill Gallagher, contains a street map of San Juan and other large cities together with an index of street names. [...]

A street. [...]

A particular dead-end street that should be significant to them on their return.

(“Our hotel was on a street that dead-ended at the ocean.”)

[...] The fact remains that millions of human beings who follow and practice Buddhism are told, as many religions tell their followers, “Better worlds are to come, so ignore this agony, and this hunger, and this pain, and the murder in the streets. [...]

(Bill Gallagher had something to say, by way of analogy, about Socrates and the city street cleaners.)

[...] She said that last night she’d had a brief blue period, in which she’d wondered if she’d ever walk out on the street again, but got herself out of it by saying “cancel” to herself, and remembering Seth’s material.