“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] She was reminded of it because of a slight ache, incurred when she held her arm over her head for an extended period of time.

(Also saw a boy’s head with dark curly hair on an unrolled scroll of some kind. [...]

The anticipated change of schedule now will help Ruburt conquer problems that otherwise could be bothersome this week, and will head off any difficulties. [...]

(Pause.) PEC… P E C… I believe, (shakes head) Pectorillin… (My phonetic interpretation). [...]

[...] Head down.) Now hear me. [...]

You are heading in the right direction. [...]

[...] If they sense that you will compromise, not in small matters but in basic principles, then you lose this club that you now hold over their heads.

[...] This is not intended specifically to apply to Ruburt; that is, he is not to get a big head, nor is he to feel offended either. [...]

[...] I do not suggest blunder-headed drunkenness on your part, Philip; merely half.

(Bill Gallagher’s head went back in a soundless laugh.)

I shall be discussed from all angles, and scrutinized, and like the monks in the Middle Ages we will wonder if I can fit on the head of a pin, but I will not get stuck. [...]

[...] I will at another occasion give our Jesuit some rather fateful measures to contemplate, and perhaps we will ask him how many ulcers can sit on the head of a pin. [...]

[...] A qualification appeared only under the chocolate headings where Jane’s pendulum said she could use the dry malt mixes now in stores, as opposed to the regular old-time cocoa used in baking, hot chocolate, etc. [...]

(At about 4 PM yesterday Jane called me out to the card table to show me the much improved movements she could make with her head: She rotated it more freely up and down and from side to side, her whole body participating somewhat as she sat in her chair. [...]

[...] Once again she’d spoken with what seemed to be considerable effort as she lay on her back, her head propped up on several pillows, her right arm swaddled closely in the blue and white canvas sling that held it close to her side and across her lower chest. [...]

[...] She fell rather heavily, he told us, and could have struck her head. [...]

[...] (Jane shakes head, pauses.) Drinking is a turnabout in her case. [...]

Now the energy that I am using now is also being made available for Ruburt (louder), and now he is no longer afraid to use it joyfully, and it will straighten out his arms and release some of the crooked ideas that he has in that head of his.

[...] (Still loud and strong.) I intend to speak with our beloved and sometimes knuckle-headed friend this evening in the dream state, and make some points that I have not made this evening. [...]

(As usual, Jane now sat with her head down, her hands raised to her eyes. [...]

[...] She resumed from this position, her head propped up on one hand, her voice quiet, her eyes closed. [...]

[...] “Things are really weird, like the sky’s cracking … Seth talking about it sort of controlled things, but now my head’s getting really big …” I roused her with a call, and she said, “Yeah, it’s wild … I don’t know whether I should break it or go along with it. I feel like my head is real big now, and going around to the right and spinning — it’s huge …”

[...] I can feel concepts in my head, but they aren’t clear yet, not the way they should be. [...]

(A one-minute pause at 9:50, head bowed, eyes closed.) The organizations of consciousness “grow” even as cells grow into organs. [...]

He decided to head in another direction from the one first planned, to visit a friend. [...]

You saw the back of the girl’s head simply because the girl was standing with her back to you. [...]

[...] Over my head I sensed the reaching-out arc of a pavilion roof, curving gracefully. [...]

[...] As soon as I heard it I snapped my head around to see who was calling me—and woke up.

[...] I used the massage on Jane’s head, neck, and back, and she said this helped the finger greatly, since she felt muscular activity in the body led to the finder’s turning color. [...]

[...] The personality is multidimensional, even though many people hide their heads, figuratively speaking, in the sand of three-dimensional existence and pretend there is nothing more.

(Humorously): In this book I hope to pull some heads out of the sand. [...]

[...] As an artist painting human figures, I am often concerned with anatomy, though usually of the head and features. [...]

Had the man seen Ruburt’s mouth two years ago he would have been outraged, and told Ruburt he would not have a tooth left in his head by now. [...]

[...] He wanted you both to be in a position where you could hold your heads up creatively and financially.

You are both heading for financial ease. [...]

[...] Her dream was also fairly accurate concerning the magazine’s cover painting for the piece: a montage featuring “a bird that was somehow a part of a man’s head, or face,” as she described it. Actually Time’s design showed a seagull superimposed over Dick Bach’s head, partially obliterating it.

[...] One man may be bald in the center of his head, and one may have a mustache, or if not he is not cleanly shaven.

[...] (Jane shook her head.) There seems to be something about a radio. [...]