“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Often I felt sorry for the other tenants in the big old apartment house we live in on West Water Street, in Elmira, New York. Our good friend Leonard Yaudes, who lives directly below us on the first floor, would sometimes leave the house on class nights. [...]

[...] For example, Miss C, who lived in our apartment house, finally died of hardening of the arteries. One night I found myself out of my own body in a strange house—strange because while it was extremely old-fashioned, somehow it looked brand-new. [...] Suddenly I “knew” that the house was an hallucination she had created, a replica of her childhood home, and I knew that she did not realize she was dead.

[...] Joanie had lived in our apartment house for a year or so, once right across the hall from us. [...]

[...] I caught up with her, gently led her back into the house, and said, “Miss C, you don’t have to worry anymore about dying. [...]

[...] It was John Bumbalo, our neighbor who lives across the street from our hill house. [...]

(Jane, with Carla’s help, tried to call me twice last night, but I didn’t get back to the house from John Bumbalo’s until about midnight. [...]

[...] In the experience the kitten was in the hospital room, and there seemed to be adjoining rooms, as at 458 (the address of the apartment house we’d lived in on W. Water Street). This signified that Ruburt was building up similarities between present and past experience, so that the kitten, appearing in the dream’s present and past also, would indeed appear in the future.

[...] I’d read it this morning at the house.)

[...] Lest he be tempted by his new house, he felt poorly, even for him, yet he saw through what he was doing, and he has begun an awakening of consciousness that is now in the process. [...]

Guest houses that have bedrooms two stories up, how he can get downstairs, that sort of thing—but he has not expressed them. [...]

[...] Servicemen had been to the house several times in an effort to improve the reception. [...]

(At 9:34 the service truck moved to the back of our house; we could see a man with a flashlight checking wires, etc., but no one knocked on our door. [...]

(The service man from the TV cable company was still working at the back of the house. [...]

We have an abbess (Yvette) and in the relationships of those days there was an easygoing give and take between the convent and the house of the priest, and you were rather closely involved. [...]

[...] I will have something to say to you at a later time and about your house ghost. [...]

[...] Finally, I was hazily aware of hearing the cars of class members as they pulled out of the parking lot next to the house. [...]

[...] I told myself I was willing to try anything — a visit to some other reality, a plunge through the door into the living room, a trip down the street in front of the house….

[...] The new viewpoint, with its new attractions—helping with work, helping with house chores—these automatically take his mind elsewhere, and act as further stimuli. [...]

[...] He cleaned portions of the house, and was quite active.

[...] I suppose the affair can be compared in certain ways to cleaning up a house. [...]

[...] But my reluctance was based, I thought, on my resentment at Prentice-Hall over their handling of art work; I really didn’t want to let the photos in question out of the house, for fear they’d be lost, etc. [...]

[...] house. [...]

[...] Now the joy that you experience when you are painting will be yours, and not desert you whether you stay in your house or go to someone else’s. You will not have to worry about “carting it along” with you. [...]

And getting out of the house.

[...] I should get out of the house more.”)

[...] The whole house shook with a thump. [...] Fortunately, it had broken off halfway up, and its tip barely missed our house. [...]

[...] I remember thinking that if this limb should fall, it would be long enough to strike the house.

[...] In the long run you are both better off that Ruburt’s publishing house did not take her book at this time. [...]

[...] The houses in the valley will be in the same “place.” [...]

[...] Say it is a tomato seed, and our house owner decides to start a plant from scratch. [...]

[...] I admit that I am stretching our ant tale here, but imagine further that our little fellow becomes familiar with everyone in, say, an apartment house, learning to recognize all of the footsteps that go up and down the stairs. [...]

[...] The publishing house — that publishing house — represents in capsule form the extremes of thought of your time, from the most conventional to the most bizarre. [...]

(I left the house for the post office and to take Jane’s typewriter in for cleaning. [...]

[...] Today Dr. K called and we arranged that she stop at the house tomorrow before 2 PM. [...]