“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Jane located the pepper can in the kitchen. [...]

[...] Jane has remarked that these remind her of bird feed, which we put out on the roof beside our kitchen windows. [...]

[...] I carried her squirming into the kitchen. [...]

“Yesterday walked with the typing table still further, the full length of the kitchen. [...]

[...] As soon as I opened the kitchen door I saw I was wrong. [...]

[...] I slid the kitchen window shut so he couldn’t call into Jane. [...]

[...] If I was in the writing room, say, I think of her in her own writing room, or the kitchen or the breezeway—or even walking, doing the dishes, perhaps, or turning on the TV. [...]

[...] During the evening as I worked in the kitchen, I heard her sing beautifully in Sumari several times; Seth spoke also, much more forcefully that he had this afternoon. [...]

[...] In the kitchen, she began to quote to me the first paragraph of what she was getting.

[...] While I made ready for dictation she sat in her chair at the kitchen table. [...]

[...] The finger began to ache as she sat with it in her lap as we congregated at the kitchen table. [...]

[...] Our cat, Bill, jumped through the open kitchen window and came over to my chair. [...]

[...] “I love the red couch cover you’re sitting on,” she said as we waited for the session—and indeed, the corded fabric glowed in the warm light cast by the table lamp on the room divider behind the couch; the divider separates the kitchen from the living room.

(Jane, as Seth, pointed to our kitchen door. [...]

(And when I came back from the kitchen:) Do you want a break?

(After getting up from my nap at 5:35 I procured the missing items from the supper tray by going to the kitchen for station A-3: milk, butter, bread and jelly. [...]

(While delivering this paragraph Jane walked into the kitchen, still in trance, to rummage for a book of matches; she wanted to light a cigarette.)

[...] I laughed, telling her her behavior reminded me of our cats this morning, when it was so cold: Both Billy and Mitzi had barely stepped out onto the picnic table from the kitchen window, when they reversed themselves and hopped right back into the house. [...]

(Shortly after this, while I was in the studio with Marilyn and Ann, I was informed that Jane was being physically sick in the kitchen. [...]

(After I’d had a nap Jane remembered to tell me that this morning, after hydro, she’d had an “experience” in which she’d seen herself baking a cake in the kitchen at 1730 Pinnacle, putting it in the oven, and so forth. [...]

[...] A hall opens off this and leads back to the kitchen. [...] Usually when we visit there we see a light on in the kitchen.

[...] Thus the hallway leading from the living room to the kitchen was dark. [...]

[...] It was still sitting on our kitchen counter when Ellspeth and Heinz carried their cheesecake in. [...]

Now: Had Ruburt gone to a doctor or a faith healer when we began our last group of sessions, and then in a matter of a week or so found himself able again to walk with his [typing] table across the kitchen floor, some thirteen or fourteen steps perhaps, where before three were his uncomfortable limit, he might have attributed the improvement to a doctor’s treatment or to a faith healer’s ability — but he would have been impressed. [...]

[...] At 8:40 she surprised me by calling out from the living room — I sat reading a magazine at the kitchen table — that she’d try to have a short session. [...]

[...] It’s as though my dream self can handle only so much at once, and the stuff heaps up, and I get up and walk to the kitchen. [...]

“As I walk into the kitchen the head of my dream self fills with vivid scenes, like other dreams, interpretations of each cell of this new awareness. [...]

[...] Now as Jane paused in her delivery I heard the town sander moving powerfully up Holley Road past our kitchen windows. [...]