“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] This had to do with the love-making also. [...]

[...] Seth stated that his mother “was fascinated by numbers,” loved the color blue, and was inordinately fond of flowers. [...]

[...] In the first place, your most pragmatic scientist is even now forced to admit, as even Ruburt knows, that solid objects are not solid; and the interesting sidelight of this fact must be that your faithful, tried and true, so-called dependable outer senses are in reality lovely liars, since the eyes see a chair as solid while the chair is not solid at all.

[...] “I love them, though — but another book? [...]

It was a lovely autumn evening. [...]

[...] The next thing I knew I seemed to be in a lovely garden that I had planted myself in some undisclosed past. [...]

[...] Ruburt loves to block such personal data. [...]

[...] It is truly a lovely spring evening, and Ruburt is correct. [...]

“Some will pick them up and say, ‘What lovely stones,’ and gaze upon them and see what they mean, and others will kick them aside. [...]

[...] When I fell in love with Rob, my joy served to double the underlying sense of tragedy I felt, as if death mocked me all the more by making life twice as precious. [...]

[...] Possibly another distorted reference to my mother’s love of red?

[...] I said, “I love you, I’m standing by your chair in the art department at the card co.,” but though I felt very light I did not see or feel myself there. [...]

[...] There is a family who loves him after all! [...]

The new director does indeed have a fussy, almost womanish love of detail for detail’s sake, and this sort of mind is one with which Ruburt finds it difficult to attune when closely involved. [...]

[...] I have told you—and incidentally my lovely skeptics I have told you in the past—that you create your own physical environment and universe. [...]

The next chapter will deal with the emotional realities of love and kinship between personalities — with what happens to these during succeeding incarnations, for some fall by the wayside and some are retained.

[...] I was wearing a lovely headdress of orange and yellow intertwined threads, each one glistening in the golden light that now filled the room. [...]

[...] I ran through radioactive rain (in a dream that, oddly enough, proved precognitive!), wandered through lovely gardens, explored several unfamiliar houses, and spoke with a well-known author whom I’ve never met. [...]

Even weighed down by fears and negative attitudes, they retained their own close relationship, but they were not able to help each other and were united by bitterness against the world, as much as by love for each other.

[...] Romantic not necessarily in terms of love interest, but in terms of imaginative fancy.