“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] She said she had a series of images which paralleled the material, yet she couldn’t describe them now.

(At 11:11 I read the last two paragraphs of the material to her, but she couldn’t make any emotional connections that might explain the voice difficulty, nor could I. Jane is inordinately fond of animals. [...]

[...] I couldn’t bridge it just then to explain what was happening or to ask him to stop. [...]

[...] The dictation stops, or rather, it was still there, but I couldn’t get it. [...]

Sue couldn’t wait to tell me about the dream. [...]

[...] I couldn’t take my eyes off them. [...]

She couldn’t explain much about her own situation, however, though she insisted that she was happier where she was than she had been in this life. [...]

She couldn’t explain what she did, except to say that she ‘learned things.’ I asked further questions about her background and was told that her husband had grown alfalfa and wheat and tried tobacco and corn. [...]

But I still couldn’t quite believe in personal life after death. [...]

[...] I wanted to do both at the same time, and figured I couldn’t manage that. [...]

As her psychic abilities began to rapidly grow, following her initiation of the Seth material late in 1963, Jane couldn’t help but become more and more concerned about consciously enlarging her “scope of identity.” [...]

[...] She finally finished the part of the session for the day before yesterday, but by then couldn’t manage yesterday’s material, so I laid aside the mail and read it to her. [...]

[...] She couldn’t read the session after a good lunch, so I read it to her at 3:18. [...]

[...] She couldn’t. I wanted to quote from it for a note in Dreams.

[...] Then I get the feeling that scares you even more—that you’re scared to death of the hospital, and yet you’re afraid to dismiss your doctor and say to hell with the whole bit—I must be hiding stuff, see, because I’m getting ready to cry, because the time might come when you couldn’t stand it any more, and you’d have to do it—go back to the hospital—go through it all again—then I just tell myself I’d make out again, just like millions of people....” [...]

[...] She talks on faith or trust, she says, in a way she couldn’t do ordinarily.

He starts fighting for position and authority, for which under ordinary circumstances he couldn’t care less. [...]

[...] I couldn’t even get my full meaning through on that sentence.

(Jane tried to read yesterday’s session, but couldn’t do it very well, so she laid it aside for a smoke. [...]

[...] She couldn’t actually pick up the morsel with her fingers, but did make the movement preparatory to doing so—another first for her. [...]

[...] I don’t know — I couldn’t tell whether it was a hello or a goodbye …”

[...] Often those friends gave of themselves in ways we couldn’t equal. [...]

[...] Jane said it made her feel “incompetent” that she couldn’t, or didn’t, pinpoint what had happened to the cat. [...]

[...] I wanted to know the Sinful Self’s attitudes toward the fact that it had rendered Jane literally helpless as far as her survival was concerned; she couldn’t take care of herself physically without the aid of others, I said, so this obviously implied that the Sinful Self was creating its own demise also. [...]

[...] I’d begun to drink a glass of milk, but couldn’t continue. [...] But this too passed, although she couldn’t eat before we went to bed even though she was hungry.

[...] But she couldn’t read it. [...]

[...] I couldn’t remember what I’d said as Seth — and I wasn’t sure if I knew what magic was — or wasn’t — But I knew that the night was … magical, alive with its own natural ceremonies. [...]

[...] I couldn’t resist making it, however.

[...] This was a visual image, yet I couldn’t read it.