“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now I remember that spring, recall sitting at my desk writing poetry, caught up in a feeling that nature was betraying us all with its promise of hope and renewal. [...]

Two days later, I sat at my desk, idly watching the sunshine on my bare arm, and was suddenly astonished by the miracle of skin. [...]

[...] I was naked, saying, “I’ve lost my way,” to a girl, possibly a nurse, seated at a desk in a cavernous, vacant, rust-red old room. [...]

[...] You must stop reinforcing the negative suggestion, and instead when you leave your desk tell yourself that when you return you will pick up your work where you left off easily and naturally.

[...] I was alone in the art room, eating lunch at my desk, when the feeling swept over me. There was no warning or pain, but the surprise doubled me over my desk. [...]

[...] It made a good desk, and he stood up to take his notes for the rest of the session.

[...] The object was a black and white Polaroid photo, taken of myself by a coworker in September 1960, at my desk at the Artistic Card Co. [...]

[...] A desk, and a chair by it, at which Dr. Instream sits. [...]

(This involved my ink bottle, the mixing tray for color on my desk in the photo, etc.

(The heading The Wonderworks first came to Jane as she sat at her desk last Friday morning, May 17. [...]

(“As I sat at my desk the next morning, April 2, I was suddenly filled with the strongest, most vivid kind of inspiration I think I’ve ever had. [...]

(“From my desk in my study I faced the windows of our small kitchen. [...]

[...] Her desk faces a row of five windows, tall and narrow, and with small panes. [...]

(As she sits at her desk Jane looks out and down to the grass of the backyard below. [...]

[...] Jane sits at her desk facing the row of windows to the west; from there she has an excellent view of the backyard and the street beyond. [...]

[...] This has to do with Ruburt’s symptoms, for he felt that he must be at his desk so many hours, whatever the number, and you became so obsessed with the amount of physical hours that you had to devote to painting that you began to divide up your psyche in terms of time.

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

[...] Something about the lower right-hand desk drawer; we do not have clearly. Someone who visits her office seems to smoke cigars, and place them in an ashtray on her desk.

[...] I found a pen and some paper in Jane’s desk. [...]

[...] Earlier today I’d suggested that she visualize herself sitting at her desk in the breezeway, writing—and without giving a thought as to how she got there. [...]

[...] Someone darted into the room, left a pile of white underpads on the desk, and darted back out.)

([Wally:] “When I came back to my desk today the date March 21, 1961 came into my mind. [...]

[...] It sprang to your mind because of the connection of a desk with a letter. [...]

[...] They were speaking at a normal rate; I was aware of two men, not old, seated at desks. I think the desks were old and battered, a brown color. [...]

[...] A cluttered desk. [...]

[...] Several times both morning and afternoon when he is at his desk. [...]

[...] He was saved, so it seemed, from endless explanations; so with a kind of psychological economy that worked far too well for a time the symptoms served to keep him writing at his desk, to regulate the flow of psychic activity, making sure of its direction, and to provide a suitable social reason to refrain from activities that might distract him—from tours or shows, and also even from any onslaught of psychic activity that might follow any unseeming (underlined) spontaneous behavior. [...]

(“It would be easy for her to transpose that basic fear of the psychic abilities and Seth into a fear of spontaneity going too far, and of not working at her desk. [...]

On the envelope of the letter containing the queries about Seth’s validity, Jane had penned a few lines as she sat at her desk yesterday afternoon:

[...] I wrote the dentist a note and left it on his desk.

Now people may wiggle their feet, or doodle, or tap a desk while they are concentrating on other things. [...]