“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] If he walked all-right-enough in the house, however, then the time would come for another dentist visit or whatever. And he would have to go—so he would not walk that well in the house either—hence the table.

[...] 2. Why did Jane have to start using the chair on wheels to get around the house, starting last May? [...]

[...] He actually concentrated upon Seven, typed it creatively, walked several times a day, began to help with meals and with the house, and comparatively speaking you both had a fairly good week. [...]

You both thought Ruburt should hide in the house. [...]

(Today we had made an initial payment towards acquiring the Birch house, dealt with so extensively in the 65th session. [...] Before the session was due Jane said she felt exhausted and nervous; she reported Seth had been with her at times during the afternoon, “buzzing around,” as she put it, while she thought about the house.

As far as your house is concerned, you have my blessing as you know. [...] I have mentioned that it is no coincidence that you came across the house. [...]

[...] Jane and I finally got around to going on a drive to look at the house, about which we had known for several weeks without bothering to investigate. Going up a very steep dirt road just outside Elmira, by luck we took the correct fork in the road and pulled into the front yard of the right house. [...]

All of your friends sensed that this house was good for you both. [...] Nevertheless, I can tell you that you will have no financial difficulties; nor should Ruburt feel any fear concerning his own job at the gallery, in terms of the house and finances.

[...] The houses were triangular A-type affairs, of multicolored pastels but also bright colors too, glass walls, the houses not crowded together, some above others on small knolls.

In facing the situation in your parent’s house, he faces and conquers the situation once existing in his mother’s house. [...]

[...] He sat on the family porch Sunday to escape the house as he did as a child in Saratoga. [...]

You nearly fell into disaster, living in the house. [...]

[...] The house eventually will pass into other hands. [...]

But first, the beautiful little house that Jane and I bought in 1975 sits near the top of a moderately steep hill at the western edge of Elmira. We soon came to call it the “hill house,” in person and in our books. (Eventually mail began to arrive addressed to us simply at “The Hill House, Elmira, N.Y.” [...]

[...] I didn’t start doing this to avoid the bedroom that Jane and I had shared in the hill house for the last nine years, but because I’d always wanted to and now can. [...] She’d never been able to sleep on the porch — one of the reasons we’d had it added onto the house to begin with.

[...] The woods come down over the crest of the hill in back of the house, to the north, and with a sound like an ocean tide the wind was racing through their treetops, plunging south past the house and into the valley. [...]

[...] Then with great surprise I saw that on top of the near end of the building there sat an old, flat-sided, two-story house with steep roofs, weathered a drab gray and with all of its windows shuttered. [...] Curiously, Jane and I stared up at the house perched so incongruously there, and we talked about trying to get up into it to see what it was like inside.

In all likelihood our sessions in this house are drawing to a close, but the house itself will be healthier for future inhabitants than it was before you came.

[...] It would do you, Joseph, no harm to allow him in your house, where you could size him up for yourself. [...]

In good seasons, the natural surroundings in which your house is located will help you both. [...]

I have been preparing your house for you. [...]

Section 6 also contains the story of how Jane and I searched for the “hill house” we bought and moved into before the last section of “Unknown” Reality was finished. That material makes an excellent ending for Volume 2. For Jane and me, our house-hunting adventures were an intensely interesting journey through a complicated skein of probabilities. [...] Empty houses are psychic vacancies that yearn to be filled. [...]

[...] Something—pressure in my head maybe keeps changing—the bottoms of my feet feel woozy; they throb gently; so does my neck; my breath deepens, ears feel funny—was going to walk around the house or do some other writing but for now at least I’ll have to go along with... [...]

Walk house twice.

[...] Jane spontaneously gave voice to her song yesterday afternoon while sitting in the glass-enclosed front porch of our hill house. [...] (The whole series has taken much longer than I expected it to, though.) I only know that Jane began to sing in very melodious tones that flowed through the house. [...]

[...] As dream opens I see a house; a farmhouse? [...] This is a country rather than a town house. [...]

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

[...] There was of course no photo involved, or a house or any connection with my parents, or the past.

(Jane felt that “white, snow white,” was valid data, even though she was thinking of a certain photo of my parent’s house, taken when there was deep snow. [...]

[...] The idea of uprooting our entire lives at this time seems far out—especially, I told her, when she couldn’t even go with me to look at houses. If in a couple of months, say, she is able to accompany me to look at houses, I’ll be delighted. [...] This, all after we’ve found a suitable place and have sold our house in Elmira on 1730 Pinnacle Road. [...]

“If you don’t let me in your house I’ll just die,” Fred said. [...] Nor was I quick-witted enough to ask if he had a family, if anyone knew where he was, or what he did for a living—if he worked, or could—or how he found our house in the first place. [...]

[...] If I can just talk to you and Jane in your house for a few minutes. [...]

[...] This, after Fred comprehended that I had no intention of letting him in the house. [...]

[...] 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. [...]

(“What was the house number?”)

(“Is the house in which you were born still standing?”)

(“What are the initials of the man living in that house now?”)

(“What is the street number of the house Doris and Sam live in?”)

[...] Beneath our living room windows, a carpenter pounded on an outside door frame as he repaired damage done to the ground floor of the house by the flood of last June [see the 613th session in Chapter One]. Beside this, the sound of additional hammering inside the house rose up through our floor; but none of this lasted long or interfered with the session.)

[...] The house had long since fallen quiet — a somewhat unusual situation these days, it seemed. [...]

Right now, I feel you and I and the house and the whole bit supported by some great force that swirls around the house and the trees and through my body, so that it circulates through my blood. [...]

[...] She was at the house by 6 PM, examined the finger and gave Jane a quick general checkup. [...]

[...] “If you were anyone else I’d have you at the emergency room at St. Joe’s for more blood tests,” Dr. K had told Jane at the house. [...]

[...] When we’d described those to Dr. K. at the house her reaction had been “Do you mean cramps?” —meaning that she saw nothing positive or healing in all of that muscular activity, only something meaning more trouble. [...]

You should look for a house when you are ready, that you want and desire regardless of the amount that it cost, and the means to get it will come. If you think you are being reasonable by looking for a lesser house, that seems more within your means, then you are selling yourself short, lacking the trust that more will be given. The feeling toward such a house will automatically guide your experiences within it. [...]

Despite your feelings against this house, generated because of Mr. Spaziani, at least on one level, your love of it was picked up by your present landlady for several reasons having nothing to do with the house. [...] In this case the past overrode your negative ideas about the house when she bought it.

(Long pause.) These attitudes may be reflected in rather simple compulsive actions: the woman who cleans the house endlessly, whether it needs it or not; the man who will follow certain precise, defined routes of activity — driving down certain streets only to work; washing his hands much more frequently than other people; the person who constantly buttons and unbuttons a sweater or vest. [...]

[...] It was getting cloudy; I told her I hoped Frank Longwell was at the house, planting the red maple while the young fellow from school was mowing the grass. [...]

[...] 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. [...]

[...] I had the book wrapped for mailing today, but I didn’t leave the house. [...] It was raging stronger than ever as we sat for the session at 9:15; drifts were piled several feet high against the northern side of the house, and against our new screened-in back porch facing the west. [...]

[...] Our house on the hill is so well-insulated that we heard the weather’s assaults as though from a great distance, except for an occasional sharp clatter from one of the metal window awnings as its slats vibrated in a blast of icy wind. [...]

[...] While our meetings take place in your time, and in the physical space of your house, say, the primary encounter must be a subjective inner one, an intersection of consciousnesses that is then physically experienced.

You used up an unwarranted amount of energy at your mother’s. Symbolically you did not like to put on the storm windows, feeling that perhaps it would be the last time that you did so, and that you were sealing up the house. [...] You did not want to be reminded particularly of your father’s condition, and subconsciously you transposed the image of a casket upon the house, so that in sealing up the windows you were sealing up a casket. [...]

[...] We had gathered in the garage out back of the house. [...]

In your dream you nicely placed the family in the garage, outside of the closed house, you see. [...]

The plants in a room, or in a house, are quite aware of the growing fetus; the plants will also pick up the fact that a member of a family is ill, often in advance of physical symptoms. [...]

Willy was always the house cat, you see, and Jane stayed in the house all day, writing. So it is the house cat who changes habits, rather than Rooney (our other cat).

[...] Ruburt has decided to leave the house more often, and be free to go outside whenever he² wishes — not to spend so much time inside because of his work. [...]

[...] Everything in the house is damp and swollen. [...]