“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] In retrospect, I still don’t know—the next day—whether Fred had visited the police station in West Elmira to ask directions to the hill house. [...]

Fred Conyers stayed on my mind through the rest of the day, after I’d waved to him as the policeman backed out of the driveway and headed down the hill. [...]

[...] As I drove up the road to the hill house, I held my breath — then saw that the grass had indeed been cut; it looked great. [...]

[...] (Pause.) Shapes as of hills in the distance; having to do with two people and many designs. [...]

[...] I do not know what to make of the reference to hills, unless it is a rather far-out connection with the “pile of bricks” simile in the script.

In March 1975 Jane and I purchased the hill house just outside Elmira, and within a few weeks David acquired his own place not far from us in the valley below. [...]

During the last couple of weeks David hadn’t made his regular trips up the hill, but Jane and I were so busy that that fact nearly escaped us. [...]

[...] Why do I have to leave my dear wife alone in the hospital each night, so that I feel like crying for her when I go to bed by myself in the hill house? [...]

(When I drove up Coleman Avenue to the hill house last night, I became aware of a strange vibrating, shuddering noise in the car’s underbody. [...]

[...] Bonds, the private papers originally kept at the hill house, then moved.

[...] The hill property will be sold, or used for collateral. [...]

The mental exercise of seeing himself vigorously cleaning the apartments at 458 (where we used to live on W. Water Street), or the rooms at the hill house (where we live now), can also be used most advantageously.

(Jane’s ESP class for Tuesday evening, February 25, took place the day after the 739th session was held, and was her last one before we began preparing for our move to the hill house. [...]

“I dreamed that I was in the kitchen of the hill house, in Elmira, crouched down just inside the room’s glass storm door, which was closed. [...]

[...] The room didn’t look much like our living room at the hill house. [...]

[...] Our physical effects, even including the hill house and the car, are few. [...]

[...] Jane writes there often — with the garage doors open — so that she can enjoy the view of the hills at the back of the house.)

[...] It was just this little inlet, with the rocky hills and not much grass. [...]

My inner gaze traveled up the hills beyond the village. [...]

[...] I’d be looking at that main street, and then suddenly I’d be in the hills beyond the village. [...]

[...] At 11:00 this morning I’d about decided the hill was too dangerous to drive; I thought of calling the nursing station at A-3. Then the sand truck came. [...]

[...] There seems to be a hill here also. Perhaps a person named Severn lives on a hill.

Say that the painting is a landscape, and that this transformation includes within the same amount of space the addition continually of more trees, more hills; that the hills still within the same amount of space allotted to the painting grow taller, and yet never shoot past the frame. [...]

(Last Saturday evening Jane and I met here at the hill house with a group of people who used to attend Jane’s old ESP class. [...]

(9:00 during a rather steady, emphatic delivery.) Man has within him the need to rest and to explore, to stay by “the hills of home,” (from Thomas Wolfe), and to explore beyond them, but such a relatively accessible second environment does have certain advantages for you and Ruburt over those it sometimes presents for others, and such a willingness to explore the probability alone can give you some excellent results by providing a new elasticity of attitude, and in a fashion by bringing home in a different way the idea that the present is the point of power. [...]

[...] We’ve been holding the sessions with the front and back doors opened so that the cool winds from the hills blow through the house. [...]

Indeed, I didn’t learn that Jane had made the tape until five weeks later, after she’d returned to our hill house from the hospital: I found it on March 30, amid others in her writing room. [...]

[...] The whole creative intimacy of our hill house was one that we’d enjoyed many times; we desperately wanted to return to that same ambience many more times.