“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] From the attaché case Fred took the handwritten manuscript of The Rules of Love. “Please. [...] This, after Fred comprehended that I had no intention of letting him in the house. [...] “Please, Fred is getting cold.... [...] Then you come out and tell Fred what Jane thinks of it. [...]

[...] “Fred doesn’t. But he’s awfully cold....” When I asked him again what he would do if he didn’t get into our place, he said, “Why, I think Fred will die. [...] And with that Fred sat down in the wood chips beside the stump that Frank Longwell had placed for us when he’d built the back porch for us. Fred did this very calmly. [...]

[...] Fred sat in one of the folding chairs and I hurried inside. [...] I helped Fred put on my coat and bundled him up. [...] Whoever I talked to had evidently been questioned by someone also looking for us—if not Fred himself —but his description of the person, as being older and with white hair, didn’t match Fred’s appearance at all, so I didn’t press the point. [...]

[...] Fred looked pained but kept talking very smoothly, as Seth. [...] I didn’t realize that when Fred’s Seth told me Fred was getting cold, he really meant it. [...]

[...] When I looked out on the back porch Fred was gone. [...] A moment later Fred came back into view from in back of the garage. [...] “Fred means you and your wife no harm at all,” he said, speaking for Seth again. [...]

[...] “How did you get here?” he asked Fred. “I walked,” Fred answered. “Fred has read some of our books,” I said. [...]

“It’s inside The Christ Book,” Fred said. By now Fred seemed quite resigned to leave with the policeman. [...] It was only after listening to him for a bit that one came to realize that something was amiss here, that Fred lived in his own world, which was a mixture of fact and fantasy. [...]

[...] Upon scanning the one manuscript, I found several references to Fred writing on it in a series of restaurants in Pennsylvania—which means of course that he didn’t take a direct flight here from Denver. [...] I definitely ended up feeling sorry for Fred, and I think Jane does too. [...] Their set of rules of the game are just as strict as ours are—at least that’s the way it seems to be in Fred’s case. [...]

“If you don’t let me in your house I’ll just die,” Fred said. [...] Fred also handed me a thick, neatly tied package of brown paper and yellow string—The Christ Book, he said, which was for Jane and me, and for Prentice-Hall. [...]

“We’ll take him to the Salvation Army,” the young officer said, after joking with Fred about what a long walk it was from the airport. In retrospect, I still don’t know—the next day—whether Fred had visited the police station in West Elmira to ask directions to the hill house. [...]