“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

He should not go from lunch until 6 o’clock, however, without some other nourishment.

Now, you may take a break, eat lunch, listen to records, walk upon waters...

(Today was sunny, cool, and quiet, and when I saw that Jane was alert after lunch I suggested she try for a session. [...]

[...] After lunch I fussed with transplanting a cutting of Swedish ivy while Jane slept. [...]

[...] What did you do just after lunch yesterday? [...]

[...] You had lunch, and both returned after a short trip shopping. [...]

(“This isn’t a lunch meeting,” Seth snapped at me through Jane, for I was still finishing a piece of candy. [...]

[...] This morning she’d slept for an hour before lunch.

[...] [She also relayed to me Seth’s comments about an article on bird migration that I read to her while we were having lunch, but I lost those too.] Jane called me early for the session—at 8:20, while I was still busy with Mass Events. [...]

[...] After lunch we used the pendulum to try to find out something about the reasons for her panic, but had little success. [...]

(After lunch today Jane and I were visited by our old friend David Yoder, who’s been in Florida recuperating from the heart bypass surgery he underwent early this year.¹ David brought news that was at first startling, then quickly developed into several conflicting emotions and ideas for us: He’d just learned from a relative of hers that a few weeks ago Mrs. Steffans [not her real name], the wife of the couple we’d purchased the hill house from in March 1975, had committed suicide at her home in a Western state while her husband was away on a business trip.

[...] Your metabolisms are different, quite naturally, and under the usual situations, given your lunch hour, Ruburt needs a good meal, sometimes certainly between five and six at the latest. [...]

[...] She too forgot the incident until I happened to mention my experience at lunch.)

[...] An hour’s lunch. [...]

[...] I was alone in the art room, eating lunch at my desk, when the feeling swept over me. [...]

[...] The friend who took the photo caught me by surprise during a lunch hour; hence my position in the act of stretching, and the startled expression.

“It was hard to reduce my insight to words, but when I described it to Jane at our lunch table, she said it made sense to her. [...]

We met at lunch in the teachers’ room where we ate with a group of women, including one lovely, black girl who was particularly intelligent. [...]

[...] An avenue beginning with a B, or San B, period, where they ate lunch. [...]

[...] in the mornings while Jane writes at home for the same period, she has taken up the habit of experimenting with psychological time at about 11:30 AM, after her stint at the typewriter, and just before she gets lunch.