“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Brownish hair as an adult, approximately five, five, and with a love of the color red, even as your own mother. [...]

“Sunday, June 8, 1980: As I went about the day, showering, doing my hair, reading the paper, doing my exercises and so forth, I kept getting stuff from Seth on … the next chapter of his book, I think to be called ‘Master Events and Overlays.’ There can be overlays of one civilization onto another, so that a ‘real’ civilization in one sphere of existence can appear as myth in another…. [...]

[...] She was in her late 30’s or early 40’s, a beautiful woman with straight brown hair and striking blue-green eyes that had a strong magnetic quality.

[...] They provide a built-in faith that pervades each living creature, each snail, each hair on your head. [...]

[...] I thought the head was too small, but well done, quite youthful with curly black hair and handsome features, as one would expect such a magical character to have. [...]

The animal hair is not an irritant in your case, though there are some associations of the past concerning your mother that may lead you to think so. [...]

[...] He looked supercool in his cut-off denim shorts; his long hair curled into natural corkscrews, his light durable frame seeming to luxuriate in the heat while my light durable frame turned into a sponge that added ten pounds of fatigue.

[...] Ruburt enjoys your combing his hair, because then you are touching him. [...]

[...] My own hair shone, each separate hair vigorous and sensuous with color. [...]

[...] They may be tortured or agonized like ordinary human beings, but they cannot be fulfilled like ordinary human beings—they cannot have friends or share confidences, or let down their hair with each other. [...]

[...] Her impression was of a face with “no hair at the sides, or perhaps bald.” [...]

[...] All That Is is not some long-haired gentleman with a saintly face. [...]

[...] Ruburt is a slim, dark-haired, quick woman now, who sits in a rocker and speaks these words for me.

[...] And I believe there is or can be, trouble—hair will fall out, or begin to fall. [...]

[...] But she had been far under, and looked a little disheveled, for she had been running her hands through her hair as she spoke, at times.

[...] The dark-haired young man was trying to talk me into displaying some of my smaller paintings in the room in his funeral home where guests were seated for viewings, etc. [...]

[...] She says: “How nicely you tie bows in my hair.” [...]

[...] Some of your physical cells are brand new, so to speak — the regeneration of fresh life is physically within you; in your terms this is true not only until your death but even after it, when your hair and nails can still grow. [...]

Some place during their journeys they met a white-haired gentleman. [...]

[...] A brief point (with some humor): When you moved here you wanted to make “a fashion statement” as per your television commercials, where the gentlemen only cut hair. [...]

[...] Our seed, however, who does not have this fine intellect that sits so nicely beneath your hair and within your skull, our seed without the intellect, rests joyfully within the earth knowing it is in the midst of creativity and that from within it, again, another flower will spring. [...]