“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

This one here has come some long way and rides herself rather hard, because I am behind her with the whip. I would not use it. Now, since I am also going to be an author you must look upon me with some awe. Ruburt may not want me to get into the act. I should not joke about him for he is indeed as he said earlier, delighted. It is not often that we have this one here with us.

Now, I would clear up one or two small points. First of all, I have been about to hear some of your excellent dissertations on my behalf. Secondly, I was also about when one member (Florence) of this class and another woman were working on my book. The other woman [was] your daughter, of course, I get about. You are all in a fine mood now and when I tell you you are awake, you are awake. There is no one that can wake you up like I can and in more ways than one. Ruburt will be on to me. He has a session tomorrow evening and he had a session last night, but he does not bother me over much.

It was difficult for me to remain so quiet all evening long, but since I could not send you a postcard of thanks, I thought I would thank you personally. Ruburt enjoyed your sparkling brew so, and so now I also to some slight extent can enjoy it. Before this brings to your mind hilarious images of tipsy spirits, if you will excuse the pun, I will leave you to the rest and quiet in which I found you, perhaps.

Listening to your tape, I see that I did not make one point clear. And it is this, then. No god created the crime of murder, and no god created sorrow and pain. The hour is late, and my friend Ruburt did not want me to speak loudly for long. What I have said, however, should serve to remind you when you question that these things were created by yourselves as you forgot your true beginnings, and only when you remember your beginnings will these cease.

I came this evening because we had a guest and also because you would know that I had not indeed deserted you. I am here whether or not I speak, you see, and often I inspire Ruburt, so that when he speaks himself, he speaks for me. For I am crafty in my ways. Now, I do indeed give you my heartiest regards and wishes, and were it not for Ruburt’s wishes and the lateness of the hour and his concerns about the neighbors, I would continue. However, I also know that there have been parties going on in this room well past midnight. With music blaring from all the walls and no one said, “Turn off the music, for the neighbors will be worried.” I do admit my voice, as it came through here, may not be as melodious. I am no disc jockey. Nevertheless, there is a point here that my friend Ruburt would do well to take to mind. I will speak to you again shortly. I could not let you leave, you see, with heavy hearts and disappointed faces. Far be it for me to blacken your day and send you away without a present! Not that I compare myself with any Easter time gift, you understand. However, I know that you look forward to my jolly comments.

Give me a moment. Your Dr. King is now precisely what he always was. The man who killed him believes he has killed a man, and ended consciousness forever and blotted out for eternity something that existed for a very brief time. And to believe that you have done such a thing is indeed pitiful. To bring yourself to do such a thing, when this is what you believe, is indeed pitiful. But your errors and your mistakes luckily enough are not real and do not affect reality. For Dr. King indeed exists.