“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

My history is filled
with kingdoms lost and kingdoms found,
with magic mirrors that open up
into brand-new cosmic maps,
and within my head
glittering worlds are spread
enough to fill
a thousand books.
Multiple vision leads me on
over paths that form
new worlds of fact.

[...] He answered them in order.” He shook his head. [...]

[...] Then, as if to break the mood, mentally I heard Seth make a joke to the effect that Joseph was not to get a big head just because Seth had apologized. [...]

[...] I felt at these times as if new information was being “popped into my head,” or rather, into my whole being. [...]

[...] He suggested that the bed be placed with the head at the north, for example, and made other comments. [...]

[...] “Do you want some now?”
Rob shook his head.
“There’s something that wants you back at the board.
You’d better sit down again.”

I had been seeing everything that I’d been describing, and now the name just appeared in my head. [...]

[...] Rob didn’t know exactly what to do, so he just asked the first question that came into his head. [...]

[...] “I couldn’t see his head, shoulders, or even waist. [...]

[...] When you weren’t looking he was apt to hit you over the head with a rock for something you had said ten years ago, and completely forgotten. [...]

While I sleep and lie stretched out,
Eyelids closed and pupils dark,
Who walks wide-eyed downstairs
Through the door in the cold night air,
And travels where I have never been?
Who leaves clear memories in my head
Of people I have never met?
Who takes these trips while I
Never lift one inch from bed?
Who dreams?

The mover, the breather, the dreamer
Shares with me this fond flesh.
He is a twin so like myself
That I cannot recognize his face.
He goes his way and I go mine.
We never meet head-on, and yet
I am aware of this ghost
Behind my every word or act.
Who moves? [...]

[...] However, when the ego becomes involved with fears, it ceases to be an effective tool and becomes instead a hammer hitting you incessantly over the head. [...]

[...] It does not bend when there is no wind, nor does it stiffen, stopping the flow of sap to the treetop for fear that the dumb tree, not knowing what it was up to, would bump its head against the sky.

[...] I had just finished my first small glass of wine when a wave of ‘feeling’ swept over me from foot to head. [...]

[...] … Often, just beforehand Ruburt does not have a thought in his head … and then my ‘excellent’ dissertations begin, if you will forgive a touch of egoism on my part. [...]

[...] It began in the left leg and left arm and then spread to my chest and head. [...]

[...] I didn’t have an idea in my own head about anything. [...]