“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] It seemed I had to rush through dinner and the dishes and my normal chores in order to get through by session time. [...]

[...] The last line in the poem he had completed just before dinner spoke of a light that would illuminate both worlds, one of the soul and one of the flesh. [...]

(On Tuesday, November 24, we had as dinner guests Dee and Joe Masters. [...]

[...] My parents’ dining room table is round, and of course we ate Sunday dinner at this table. [...]

A striped awning, a dinner at 375. [...]

[...] On a Sunday after a noon dinner at my parent’s home Jane, myself, Loren and my father went down to the photographic studio.

[...] His girth was extensive, and he read poetry to Jane and her mother, Marie, every Sunday after dinner, with a booming voice and a dramatic flourish. [...]

[...] I said I was glad that candles were “in,” because I loved to light them, and the few times I did so, at birthday parties or Christmas, Jim always got upset, mentioning the fire hazard—even when we had guests for dinner.)

[...] After dinner I watched “Mission Impossible” on television and began reading the Nicoll exerpts which were on probabilities. [...]

(Pause at 11:13.) If you are glutted — sated — with a steak dinner, for example, in America or Europe, then you are also famished in another portion of the world, experiencing life from an entirely different viewpoint. [...]

[...] The two women’s Catholicism became even stricter: it was often bolstered by the head of the local church coming to Sunday dinner at the old two-family house at 92 Middle Avenue, in one of the lower-income sections of Saratoga Springs.