“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Some seven and a half years later, Jane had been hospitalized for over ten months. We worked together during most of those days of treatment; by then, also, she had carried nearly to the limit her exploration of both her personal life and her “psychological ‘art’ “ of living. She very creatively considered those journeys and her new goals in the untitled poem that she spontaneously dictated to me from her hospital bed on March 1, 1984. It took her just seven minutes, spanning as it did two interruptions by nursing personnel,

‘I went back to work on a long-overdue Seth book the next day, but don’t let my determination to carry on Jane’s work fool you. A cave has opened up inside me, and I can only trust that the wound would heal itself. I still cry for my wife several times a day, fifty-seven days after her death. From watching Jane for 504 consecutive days in the hospital, I learned that human beings have tremendous, often unsuspected reserves of strength and power, yet I still don’t understand how I can feel such pain and live.’

[...] When she returned to the house she saw her body upon the floor … Her husband remarried seven months later. [...]