“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] And so our onion, with the full vitality within it to grow from the inside out, as all things grow, instead looks at the fine carrot next to him, and such a lovely hue, and examines the carrot in his mind to see if this is God. [...]

It was no coincidence however that Ruburt’s Father Trayner read him poetry, inspired Ruburt’s love of poetry, and that Ruburt would feel that he had to use poetry to express ideas with which his mentor did not agree.

For you (pointing to me) always there has been a love of land, and the fruits of the land.

[...] He fell in love with her, and despite her condition, took her to his home village.

[...] Now Sally loves him, and has learned to see the good points of his personality.

[...] Their belief in dreams, love of music and song, even a certain mystical feeling of connection with the land—these elements were allowed the Negroes only because they were not considered fully human. [...]

[...] An artist loves his painting. [...]

Now, when you make a new contract, so to speak, together, and Ruburt began to show physical improvements—aided strongly, my dear friend, by your loving encouragement—he found suddenly that the joint pendulum sessions ceased momentarily. [...]

[...] You can use your love of your son as a vehicle —and as a vehicle that will help you find yourself. [...]

[...] You have the propensity to search for meaning, for love, for cooperative ventures. [...]

[...] Its most important benefit, however, was that it freed Ruburt from mentally seeing himself in only one corner of one room, and immediately aroused his normal leanings toward love of whatever home you share.

[...] I’d been admiring the loving care with which he’d addressed himself to each portion of his body. [...]

[...] “I loved the idea of that Foster Street house. [...]

Your closest approximation of the purpose of the universe can be found in those loving emotions that you have toward the development of your children, in your intent to have them develop their fullest capacities.

[...] Love is expressed to you on occasions when it could not be expressed to other members of the family; but still stays within the family, you see. [...]

(On December 13 Jane came up with her best title yet for the book of poetry she’s putting together: If We Live Again: Love’s Lives and Probable Selves. [...]

[...] In your intimate periods, to some extent at least, impediments become minimized through love and desire. [...]

Now my dear love. [...]

[...] I can write that many of the characteristics Seth mentioned this evening apply to us, as we’ve learned over the years — especially those concerning our love of art, our being initiators, and our desires to be free of social structures. [...]

[...] “You didn’t think I could do it, did you my lovelies? [...]

We didn’t return to “work,” however, until we’d enjoyed a covered-dish supper that a loving neighbor had prepared for us. [...]

And as for books, early in August I returned to our publisher, Prentice-Hall, the page proofs Jane had corrected for her book of poetry: If We Live Again: Or, Public Magic and Private Love. Ordinarily that event would have delighted us, since it meant that before the year was out she’d have another work published. [...]