“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(As soon as Seth said this, I remembered seeing the automobile parked before the Colucci’s house on the evening Jane and I visited there. Since their home is in the country, and not even close to any other house, the car couldn’t be connected to anyone outside the Colucci family. [...]

[...] He gave us the names and addresses of two drug houses that he learned about in Minneapolis. [...]

[...] “I just got the feeling that you and I are going to have some unexpected company—I don’t know whether here or at the house.” [...]

[...] I should add that throughout all of this mix-up Jane was quite upset; I could pick up from her attitude the old feelings she’d had at the house, whenever her symptoms got worse. [...]

[...] Nor did Jane get her mail answered yesterday, as she had planned to do, nor did she find the time to putter about in the house, either in her writing room, or the studio annex.)

(To Laurie.) Now you are playing around in your haunted house. [...]

(To Laurie.) I did not say there was not something legitimate going on in that house. [...]

[...] The connection with your aunt simply has to do with present-life connections and the terms of the house to you. Now the house, to you, represents in one way, the seat of personality also, the inviolate place and you do not open the door to strangers or give them access into the secret self unless you feel that there is a good reason. [...]

As I have said that the walls of your house do not actually exist as such, so the divisions that you have placed within the spacious present do not exist. But as the walls of your house are experienced by your outer senses, and serve to protect you against other camouflage materializations, even those of wind and rain and cold, so do the walls of past, present and future, erected by you as a different kind of camouflage pattern, protect you from inner forces and realities with which you are not as yet equipped to deal.

(The day was cool—39 degrees—when I left the house. [...]

[...] It was attended only by Jane, myself and Marian Spaziani, the wife of our landlord, although others were present in the house.

[...] I told her that when I was alone at the house I often imagined her there too. [...]

You can, of course, always use the pendulum, as you used to, both of you, to indicate what portions of the house you each personally prefer to use for certain activities. [...]

(A hard, refreshing spring rain, with thunder and lightning, was drumming against the house as we sat for the session. [...]

[...] To have a house with screened-in porches amid trees—what an advantage! [...]

(Tomorrow, the hostages meet President Reagan at the White House. [...]

[...] Is it because the immobility keeps him inside the house, where he feels safe, or....?”

[...] I work around these creative outpourings by ministering to my wife, running our house and the many errands connected with our daily living, handling our publishing affairs, seeing visitors—expected and unexpected—and trying to answer at least some of the mail, which is threatening to accumulate beyond control. [...] Nor have I resumed the midnight walks I used to take over the hilly streets of our neighborhood; I used to look forward to seeing the shadowy deer as they moved down into the streets from the woods north of the hill house. [...]

At the request of Dr. Mandali, a few days ago Jane underwent her routine phlebotomy, or bloodletting, here at the house. [...]

[...] Seth said the reason I am bothered more at home than at work, where I feel remarkably good, is that the house dust in the apartment reminds me of house dust at home, and of my mother, when I was a child.

[...] We suppose the “familiar location” can refer to our own apartment wherein I made the drawing; or perhaps to the apartment house itself, in which our visitors also live. [...]

[...] In color: I’d looked out the south window of the bedroom to see Fred Kardon standing out on the lawn; he was talking to someone else who was doing some kind of work near the big pine tree that grows up over the corner of the house. [...]

Gramacy was a psychologist and a magician, and he came to our house because he was a scientist looking for some real magic. [...]

[...] The bath is very large, an ornate and tiled affair that was once the master bath of the house before it was converted into apartments.

[...] We were actually in a rickety old house on the valley’s slope, perhaps halfway up. [...] Part of the time I was looking out of a window, and part of the time I stood on the roof or a porch with Bill, our backs pressed up against the side of the house. [...]

(No wonder, then, the retreat from the world, even the refusal to leave the house. [...]

(The wind was strong, rattling the metal blinds of the west side of the house. [...]