“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] It lay on or by the curb with leaves in it and it, uh, it had, ah, metal eyelets and another projection.

(I asked Jane to handle the envelope carefully as soon as she came out of trance, and to lay it flat on the table while opening both envelopes, etc., in order to see if the small object was in a left-hand corner. [...]

[...] As I lay beside her in a most pleasant daze, I heard quite clearly in the cool night air the honking of geese as they flew south. [...]

[...] Now these medical beliefs are intertwined with your economic and cultural structures, so you cannot lay the blame upon medical men or their profession alone. [...]

[...] I told no one about the notebooks, or the three drawings I had made of Jane as she lay in her bed right after her death. [...]

[...] I made no leaps in time to write about her physical death, for to me that sad event lay too far in the future — over two and a half years — from the time she finished dictating Dreams, “Evolution,” … in February 1982.

“I asked Jane to lay her wedding ring on the table. [...]

[...] Yet working with the pendulum in the bedroom at 12:30 AM last night, she said she still wanted the book published—and therein lay at least one source of much trouble, I thought and said. [...]

(When I first lay down I had the feeling that a door had opened out of my vision to the left, letting light creep slowly in. [...]

Now when I said the problem lay mainly in the present, I did not emphasize past roots, where the patterns originated. [...]

(Jane lay the board aside. [...]

[...] Clairvoyantly he merely disentangled himself enough to ignore some camouflage in order to perceive camouflage that lay behind it, and this is a necessary first step.

[...] Some of those lay in her poetry, both for her book and outside of it. [...]

[...] Of course, we couldn’t possibly have foreseen the great variety of challenges that lay before us. [...]

[...] In a fashion you are merging arts together, and laying the groundwork for new kinds of art that presently do not exist.

[...] She lay on the floor on her back. [...]

[...] We’d been working hard, and when I lay down for a nap Saturday afternoon I felt relaxation effects. [...]

(At 8:40 PM Jane lay down for a brief rest, while I sat quietly in an attempt to use psychological time. [...]

[...] He then hopped up on Jane’s empty chair, opposite mine, and lay there staring at me for some time while I took notes. [...]

[...] I remember that it resembled a beetle, was about half an inch long, was a beautiful light red-brown color, and lay helplessly on its back with its legs thrashing. [...]

[...] One when he took the thermostat, threw it by mistake into the Jeep, where it lay forgotten and hidden; and another occasion three weeks later when it was dumped. [...]

[...] And there I lay in the hospital for a full month, with physical survival uppermost in my mind—hardly a coincidence. [...]