“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane, smiling, leaned forward in her chair, eyes still closed, to question me solicitously. Actually, I was just about managing to keep up with her speed of dictation, but disliked interrupting to ask her to slow down since Seth was obviously in a rare mood—as witness his hopping, almost excitedly, from one topic to another. This manner was far different than our usual quiet, almost sedate sessions. Certainly Seth, or Jane, felt a keen enjoyment.

(Break at 12:21. Jane was indeed fully dissociated. She was not aware that she had been taking herself to task so vehemently. Her manner had quieted somewhat just before break.

(Jane’s glasses were off as she looked at me, and she was also smoking. Her voice was very dry and quiet; at the time I thought this was because her cold was finally interfering with her voice, but events will show how wrong I was about this.

(In spite of her whispering voice Jane said she felt all right. My writing hand was beginning to feel tired. The feeling of change in her features and personality had persisted through her delivery. It once again manifested itself when she resumed, still in a quiet voice and with her eyes open again, at 1:49 AM.)

(The strange thing here was that by now even I realized that Seth could do just what he said he could, that he still had not hit the top of his, or Jane’s, ability to produce a really stunning effect. I have no real way of measuring the magnitude of what I was hearing, beyond stating that it enveloped me completely. I not only felt that everyone in the apartment house could hear the voice, but that it was audible on the street. I am still surprised that no one banged on our door and asked for quiet.

There will be other evenings like (louder, to soon quiet down) this evening, and there will be other demonstrations that will be of quite legitimate purpose. For on all occasions we find a desire for proofs and for signs, and although I find such desires on the one hand childish, on the other hand I find myself realizing that there is to some extent a legitimate claim, particularly on Ruburt’s part, considering the limitations of the human egotistical nature.

I can indeed feel you quail at the volume of my voice (louder again), considering the ungodly hour (louder yet, really loud, blasting out with a smile, to soon quiet again), and so I will lower it. But I would like it understood that now, if I so chose, there would be no doubt (louder, very loud) as to my identity (and now also deeper) or my abilities.

(Jane’s voice had been quiet for some time now, and it remained so as she resumed at 2:46, again with her eyes open.)