“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I am certainly putting this in the most simple of terms, but a bird may have a nest, though it leaves it frequently and never confuses itself with its nesting place. [...]

[...] Jane sat in the doorway that opens from her writing room onto the screened-in back porch of the hill house, and watched the birds searching out the wet remnants of the feed I’d scattered in the driveway this morning. [...] The rain didn’t bother the birds at all: a pair of cardinals, several red-winged blackbirds, some phoebes, various warblers, and a group of mourning doves. [...]

[...] His imaginings, even of simple things—the bird baths, the feeders, the picnic table that implies outside experience—all of this will pay off.

[...] We quickly agreed that we’d been setting up the illness syndrome for years, yet the deep emotional shocks accompanying its physical developments seemed to come at us like attacking dark birds zooming in from another probable reality. [...]

Like shadows or gray birds.

[...] She listens to the first songs of the birds. [...]

[...] Rat poison may indeed add its own dangers, killing other small birds or rodents, and contaminating animal food supplies. [...]

[...] But time is as transparent as the air in this room and your 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 o’clock flies through the air like birds. [...]

[...] They wondered where their thoughts went after they had them, and they imagined that in one way or another those thoughts turned into the birds and rocks, the animals and trees that were themselves ever-changing.

[...] Through the open patio door she listened to the first bird calls, summoning her outside to watch the foggy dawn unfold. [...]

[...] Through your eyes the beasts, vegetables, birds, and dust perceive the dawn and sunlight as you do — as you, and yet on the other hand your experience is your own.

[...] Seth hasn’t gone into the ideas as related to insects, say, or birds or the animals—or viruses or bacteria, for that matter—at all, and I’m sure there is a wealth of fascinating information there. [...]

He identified with the bird the cat caught. [...]

[...] Now why these personalities should be envisioned as overgrown birds is beyond me for everyone knows what birds do on rooftops. [...]

You are made basically of the same ingredients as a chair, a stone, a head of lettuce, a bird. [...]

[...] I think that my appreciation of wildlife has grown considerably since we’ve encountered so much trouble physically in our own lives: the sheer ability to move with nature’s grace and skill has gradually become very important, and to me the animals express this quality perfectly: the ‘coons, the deer, the dogs, cats, rabbits, mice, chipmunks; the birds, and yes, even the insects....)

[...] People are natural mimics, as are some animals and birds, so when tribal members related their dreams, they did not just tell them but acted them out with great mobility, carefully mimicking whatever animals or people or elements of land they may have encountered.

[...] Actually, the beasts and birds and fishes pictured in the book all seemed to be regressive, rather than to show what true progress in evolution might be like. [...]

[...] Also, quickly, I saw clearly the birds on our rooftop, through the living room window.

[...] Then you grew restless and entered a bird who perched upon the branches and you flew merely several feet away. [...]

[...] Her dream was also fairly accurate concerning the magazine’s cover painting for the piece: a montage featuring “a bird that was somehow a part of a man’s head, or face,” as she described it. [...]