“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I have been here, as Ruburt knows well, through your class this evening, and he has given me permission, for I would not dare peek into this class unless he told me that I could do so. For such a small and slender snip he holds his own. We do, however, have a very good relationship, as I’m sure you know by now. And you understand, I know, my humor. My energy has been silent but potent in this room, like that bottle of wine that sits upon the table. But Ruburt knew that I would be here before class was over, and I come to you with no great pronouncements. The material is my pronouncement, and I back up the material with my presence. And when you read the material, then indeed you know who it is that has given it, and if you hear a laugh behind the material as you read it, let there be no doubt in your mind that I am here. While I do not follow you, tippety-toe, behind you to your school halls and your hallowed bank corridors, nevertheless I am aware, generally, of your activities, and I know when you are reading my material.

He is learning to contain and focus the energy that is mine. Would you prefer that I be as silent and solitary and quiet as a tiny pin that sits upon the blue rug? I can prick you all indeed and cut you up. Only because I make you think, do not ever believe that I would have you forget your banking [sic] intellect, for this is not the case, and if there is much I have not said to you, it is because you know already what I would say to you. I want you to realize that all personality exists beyond what you call the grave, and that what I am has been here in many guises, as indeed, so have you. And that the personal characteristics by which I have been known continue.

I should be a bishop, for the looks upon your faces, the reverence and the quiet and the awed expression. I am indeed honored. I feel, and I do indeed feel, as you with the perpetual motion leg will know, like a friend to all of you this evening and hardly like a bishop. Nor would I think of shattering a window to prove so paltry a point as the existence of my own unlimited vitality and energy. For my friend Ruburt would never allow it. However, my thoughts are strong. My only point in such unseeming [sic] and undignified, unbusinesslike and unconventional demonstration—I would make a poor bank president—my only point is to let you know that existence knows no barriers and a breeze and ease through blood and bone are born [sic]. I could and I would—and I would—enjoy speaking in such a manner until dawn, but you could never take it, and Ruburt would hide in the cellar for three days following.