“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Whisper: “I know.... Evelyn. We’re gone.” The mouth was odd again. “I can’t yell. I think—they’ll think I’m dead because I can’t talk... Bury,” Jane shouted, almost crying, “bury! My mother... Mary Benedict.” [Later, Jane wondered if she hadn’t been shouting the name Barry, a man’s name; this was speculation; she wasn’t sure.]

(“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.

(“There were two cars,” Jane cried out, glasses thrown aside. Mouth odd. “So quiet ... am I dead? Right there... arm’s funny.” Now she rubbed her lower left arm; she cried out, voice rising almost to a scream: “I was driving. Can’t make out—!” Jane burst into tears. “Papa, Papa, Papa...” I spoke to her loudly but it did no good. “I... Papa should know it wasn’t my fault. Brakes bad... I can’t decipher...”