“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I will bid you a most pleasant good evening, my dear friends, and often I am with you.

[...] Nor, my dear Joseph, are these explosions, though this is quite an exaggerated phrase, nor are these his alone; for he takes up also your hidden frustrations and angers, feels them deeply, though consciously he does not know this; and he then in these small explosions rather harmlessly dispels pent-up, small but potent emotional bombshells that belong to you both.

[...] If you were in Ruburt’s position, you would be more willingly regular than he; but my dear Joseph, your critical sense would block me much more than his, particularly in details. [...]

[...] For example, it is a statement of fact, my dear Joseph, that when you leave your work on “Unknown” you must then spend much time reacquainting yourself with the material, struggling to assimilate material, regaining continuity, and so forth. [...]

[...] But if you want to know what we are doing with the Sumari language, my dear cousin of Richelieu, we are taking away your ball and that is why you all feel so uneasy. [...]

My dear cousin of Richelieu, you give yourself a report card that I would never give you. [...]

[...] Most of all the question means: When I am dead, will I still be who I am now, and will I remember those who are dear to me now?

[...] The body that you had ten years ago, my dear readers, is dead. [...]

But they are the characteristics in your terms that were mine a long time ago, and I don them again as an old garment that is familiar and dear. [...]

I do not mean to infer that our dear friend Ruburt is simply a channel on a TV screen. [...]

[...] He may even refer to those feelings of distrust as a dear frightened part of himself, and then, again, address that part of the self sympathetically — telling it why it need no longer be frightened, and vocally and emotionally stressing the fact that the frightened portion of the self no longer needs defenses, but can now allow itself free and natural expression.

[...] However, my dear distortive and naughty Ruburt here not only put words into my mouth, unconsciously of course, but then said sweetly that they were not distortions.

[...] Dear Ruburt, sometimes you are like a dumbskull if not a numbskull, and I will give my own proof in my own good time, and without such flattering but ineffectual help as this.

[...] I truly have never seen such panic in such an instance as I saw on your face, dear Joseph.

(To Bette.) There is also someone, my dear cousin of Richelieu, you forgot in your out-of-body state. [...]

[...] I thank them — just as I thank each and every one of you, dear readers, for your past, present, and future contributions. [...]

[...] Ruburt fixed it so that he could only sit at his desk—and for all your protests, my dear friend, you acquiesced. [...]

Now, when you make a new contract, so to speak, together, and Ruburt began to show physical improvements—aided strongly, my dear friend, by your loving encouragement—he found suddenly that the joint pendulum sessions ceased momentarily. [...]

And our dear Lady of Florence: you have not yet put one tippy-toe in the clear waters of the inner self. [...]

[...] And may I ask you (Brad) in all seriousness, dear friend, who—who do you think you are to refuse to use the strength which has been given to you. [...]

[...] If you will forgive me, my dear Joseph, you are full of air. [...]

[...] When you paint a picture, my dear egotistical Joseph, you are dealing with a transformation of energy and a transformation of camouflage pattern. [...]

With this my dear friends I leave you for the evening. [...]

You made a witty and somewhat frivolous comment, my dear Joseph, during your lengthy period of rest. [...]

Frank Watts, dear inquisitive Joseph, is resting, and he needs it. [...]

[...] And now, dear friends, good night. [...]

(Smile.) And my dear friend, my time is not your time, and there are many probabilities and hence often a time variance.

[...] You have dragged your feet, my dear friend, fearing that the inadequacies of the physical condition would mar the integrity of your work. [...]

Now, my dear young man. [...]

[...] (Eyes closed, smiling, Jane leaned toward Pete.) Now, my dear young man, quite innocently, you have made an early and understandable error. [...]

Now my dear love. [...]

[...] Whenever evidential material has been given, my dear friend, and it has been given to help others deal with a problem that was of vital interest, it has not been given as a demonstration, and it has not been given to prove anything to anyone. [...]

(Still to Warren:) So forget all of the histories, my dear friend, and listen to your own thoughts, which are today as alive and vital as those of any man ever born, in whatever time. [...]

As you know, my dear Joseph, there is a difference between probable realities and reincarnational ones. [...]

The bookcases should stay as they are, my dear Ruburt. [...] The bedroom arrangement is fine, and if my dear Joseph will not blame Ruburt’s subconscious I would make one further suggestion that is not, however, to involve any more complicated arrangements on Ruburt’s part: simply, when it is possible, the addition of either a comfortable chair or a small desk and chair, quite simple, to your bedroom arrangement, as a more or less permanent fixture for a small private place, accessible when he wants it, for our so sensitive and sometimes pigheaded Ruburt.

[...] My dear friends, both of you, I hope that your doubts have been laid to rest, certainly for a while. [...]