“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(The colors in the room by now seemed very brilliant to Jane—pulsating. She didn’t necessarily feel Seth around, but could have held a session, she said. The top of her head “felt funny” to her. Now the eyes in the oil head I recently finished of the discarnate artist, Van Elver, seemed alive to her; the portrait hangs on a bookcase wall in our living room. Jane again walked through the apartment. Looking out at the kitchen from the studio, she said the path to the kitchen looked like a “charged pathway” to her.

(“Boston...avenue...Nina,” [whispered; mouth odd again] “stolen... picture about the river. Movie...” Jane rubbed her upper left arm, muttering. “My arm hurts.” Again Jane jumped on the couch, her mouth odd. She bent forward, eyes closed, and reached down toward the floor. “There’s something on the floor of the car... floor hanging out..?” She kicked off her shoes and sat with her legs doubled under. Again she was upset. Her right hand against her cheek, head down, moving about.