“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] This is to our high-apple-pie-in-the-sky girl.

“There was a fountain with an apple on it—do you remember?” (Long pause.) Something about a missal or prayer book, with dates, black, and a connection with a grandfather.

([Gert:] “She seems lost, like the little worm in the apple. [...]

One wrong or bad apple, you feel, can rot the whole basket. [...]

[...] Round with an apple shape, belonging to his wife.

[...] Couldn’t write approximately 2 months before death.) A connection with Billie and apples. [...]

[...] Perhaps I’d even give you a gold star, although if I know you, you will insist that the teacher give the proverbial apple to the pupils, instead of the other way around.

[...] And a connection with something round and red, of apple shape.

[...] Just as they had before our three-month layoff from book work [after Session 707], her trances for “Unknown” Reality were proving to be more “difficult” to initiate than those for the previous Seth books.⁹ She often had to wait for just the right moment to get back into dictation following a break, too; so tonight, after we’d shared an apple, she sat rather impatiently anticipating Seth’s return. [...]

[...] Perhaps I’ll even give you a Gold Star, although if I know you, you will probably insist that the teacher give the proverbial apple to the pupils instead of the other way around. [...]

“You may dream of holding an apple, for example, and awaken to find it gone. [...]

[...] If you want to see the colors of a flower, or my dear friends, of an apple, you must get out of your body to do so. [...]

(Howard bought a small tempera of mine picturing two apples; and then to Jane’s surprise he bought off the wall of our apartment a small abstract oil that Jane and I had produced jointly, in a humorous attempt at working together. [...]

[...] Do you dream of an apple? [...]

[...] They will get no further to the heart of truth or reality than a fly buzzing around the outside, forever-closed-to-him, portion of a round, hard, unripe apple.

[...] There are simply different kinds of consciousness, and you cannot basically compare one to the other any more than you can compare, say, a toad to a star to an apple to a thought to a woman to a child to a native to a suburbanite to a spider to a cat. [...]

[...] She painted a tree rising out of the earth with brilliantly colored apples, for example. [...]

[...] It must have died years ago, as did its companion, the apple tree I had drawn to illustrate Jane’s poem, “The You-ness of the Universe,” in her book of poems, Dialogues of the Soul and Mortal Self in Time (1975). [...]