“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] and I did fear that the extra work couldn’t but help cut into painting time, or typing time, or whatever. [...]

[...] The next morning, I arose with the thought that all our stewing was after all academic—Jane’s symptoms would prevent us from being on the show to begin with —we couldn’t see her physically negotiating airports, taxis, hotels, studios, New York City, etc.)

(Rich was half embarrassed and half serious; at the height of the exchange between the two, Seth’s addresses to Rich were so fast I couldn’t hope to record them. [...]

(I took a long pause while I tried to recall a couple of questions that I knew I wanted to ask, but couldn’t recall. [...]

[...] For the first few days after I finally got it through my head what Jane was really saying in her essay I couldn’t accept the idea that each one of us literally, really, creates our own reality. Conventional thinking simply couldn’t, wouldn’t accept that, I said, although I didn’t regard myself as a conventional thinker. [...]

[...] I couldn’t get my car out of the garage; the streets weren’t plowed, businesses remained closed. [...] I couldn’t get through to my wife by telephone. [...]

[...] Jane did have direct hits listed, but for other impressions Peg and Bill couldn’t agree on the accuracy and/or timing of certain activities. [...]

[...] Why couldn’t he cure her, or at least help her?” My answer right here is that those questions were and still are answered to the best of the abilities of Jane, Seth, and myself in these private sessions, even while I keep in mind Frank Watts’s references to Jane’s “Timidity has roots of rage.” [...]

[...] [Others, I’ve often speculated, couldn’t realize the depth of Jane’s challenges.] As we talked, Jane laughed and said she picked up from Seth that “the best books are yet to come.”)

[...] She’d felt that other personality behind Seth while she’d been in trance, but couldn’t get it.... [...]

[...] I felt it offered hope, simple as it really is, and I couldn’t figure out what she was going to do without hope—without the sessions, without using her own abilities, without accepting some kind of reinforcement from anyone else. [...]

[...] Later in 330 she had to call for help because she couldn’t work the nurses’ call button, and one of the nurses hollered at her. [...]

[...] They couldn’t be born for them or die for them. [...]

[...] We had heard of Gardner Road before, though couldn’t recall any connections, or its exact location, etc.

[...] She hardly remembered it, but wrote in her notebook this morning that she knew it involved a new, rather odd kind of perception that she couldn’t verbalize at all. [...]

[...] I reminded her this morning to write an account of the experience, but the after effects, plus new healing sensations, were so strong that she couldn’t concentrate enough to do the job; she wrote but a paragraph or two.

[...] You couldn’t have hit it closer.”

[...] Then I told Rob about another idea I had about it, one that I couldn’t possibly prove.

[...] The critical self kept thinking that this couldn’t happen in a dream.

[...] I couldn’t remember when I’d had such a good time! [...]

[...] He couldn’t possibly be the same age and delivering papers in Elmira! [...]

(Jane said she couldn’t really describe them now, but she had “great emotional feelings” when she delivered the part of the session about my thinking that selling work made me a prostitute. [...]

[...] But she couldn’t put it into words.)

[...] “You hated yourself but you couldn’t stay away from me.”

[...] She didn’t know why she couldn’t say it while in trance, since she knows the word and what it stands for, etc.)

[...] She couldn’t get the material through in the two instances noted; in the past, she said, she wouldn’t have been aware of this, so she considered this new awareness an advancement over the past.