“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

([Bette:] “Because he started to—He just didn’t have any gumption to him. He started to whimper and to cry when he knew that he had his home and his family to protect and he didn’t do it, and I had crying kids and I didn’t need a crying husband because the older kids could shoot much better than their father because he didn’t know how to pull the trigger. He didn’t know how to do anything.”

([Bette:] “No. I was in my own little existence. All I cared about were my own kids and you took care of that.”

([Bette:] “Well, who started it? I sure didn’t. My kids sure didn’t and my husband didn’t. He couldn’t do anything.”

[...] The affair reminded me of an incident when I was a kid, in science class, as a freshman in high school. Another kid pulled my chair out from behind me so that when I went to sit down I fell on the floor instead. [...]

[...] Maybe one of the kid’s relatives, or one of the kids.” [...]

(“The kid—the two boys or young men, seemed to be headed in the direction of Bob Kinner’s old coffeehouse that we went to ...a farmhouse on the left, and a curve, the road curves to the right.

[...] One of the kids may not have a license. [...]

[...] moisture or easiness is now in both legs so I feel I’m moving all together more; go to fix coffee, hoping I can get out of kitchen before laundry boy arrives; do dishes, and the kid comes. [...] Kid tries door; it’s locked; I don’t think I can unlock it and get out of his way quickly enough without asking him to wait for me to move, feel humiliated again, know Rob is busy with the book and why can’t I handle it? [...]

[...] She told Jane that all the kids on the floor really admire her for the way she “withstood all that pain and agony.” [...]

(Luke and Lois Hutter were visiting her house and husband and kids out in the country, Phyllis said, and she called the house to see if they’d arrived yet. [...]

(“Next I was running like a kid. [...]

[...] The little men were working on my knees when I heard the kids upstairs leave. [...]

[...] “I believed what I wrote, but people said I’d grow out of it and have kids, and I was determined not to.” [...]

[...] And Marie said to her: “You were a nice kid until you turned about sixteen — then you turned into a bitch.” [...]

[...] Jane most forcefully told the kids that she wouldn’t, and that she didn’t want such suggestions. [...]

[...] She didn’t go to hydro this morning: “You’ve got to be kidding.”

(Jane reiterated that she hadn’t trusted her female body, and that she thinks she’s now paying for not having kids — after all, she’d been told that’s what women were supposed to do. [...]

[...] He was like some kid admiring a box of chocolates; each piece representing one of his own talents, wondering which piece to nibble on first. [...]

[...] Jane was telling me that an aide who took care of her this morning, and who is living apart from her husband and has three kids, looked at a second-hand washing machine this noon but couldn’t afford the $130 cost. [...]

([Tom D:] “What I was trying to say was, it is easier to influence the kids that are slow learners... [...]

([Tom D:] “I feel that I am helping those kids.”)

[...] I told the kids that they could lose their shirts in their proposed Seth Production Company, just so they would know various possibilities—and probabilities.)

[...] There was much kidding around. [...]

[...] Margaret and I had been kidding about her lemon pie at the hospital. [...]

[...] “It’s all right, kid,” Jane said several times to herself. [...]

[...] When lunch came Jane couldn’t eat some of the food on the tray, but, surprisingly, did well with the pizza the kids had saved for me. [...]

[...] He had a class of school kids in town. [...]

[...] “It’s all right, kid, it’s all right,” Jane said amid her other noises. [...]