“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] The questioning of values, of neighborhood and church, allowed the intuitions to work and gave them freedom. [...]

[...] Bill and Lorraine did not believe the accent to be Irish, even considering Jane’s early years in an Irish neighborhood and her association with Irish priests.

[...] Now, she being uniquely herself, is more than pleased with your situation: a good house in a fine neighborhood, and who cares where the money comes from (with more than a little humor)? [...]

[...] The neighborhood emptied itself except for us, and became extremely quiet.

[...] While on a walk to a neighborhood store she was given a ride by our family doctor. [...]

[...] You saw your family as a small sample of the world’s peoples, and their interrelationships with each other, and with the neighborhood, as representative of most people’s relationship with the world. [...]

(“Are there any children in the neighborhood?”

[...] A friend of ours who lives in our apartment house knows the two dancers, who live together in the neighborhood. [...]

[...] Jane grew up in an Irish neighborhood in Saratoga Springs, NY, and is a quarter Irish. [...]

[...] 6/25, AM: Little achieved; interrupted by neighborhood noises. [...]

[...] (Long pause.) When a house is vacant all of the people in the neighborhood send out their own messages. [...] This applies to the smallest neighborhood⁴ and to the greatest nation. [...]

[...] The neighborhood was middle-class, the house gray-framed, two-storied, with a front porch.

[...] Rooney got into neighborhood scrapes, as Ruburt’s father did in bars in various parts of the country. [...]

Later still, a dress shop, and then a restaurant, as the neighborhood deteriorated. [...]

[...] Jane was six years old when her grandmother was killed by an automobile while going to a neighborhood store to buy Shredded Wheat. [...]

[...] The hospital, or whatever it was, was near Lizzy Roohan’s old house, in my childhood neighborhood in Saratoga Springs, NY. [...]

[...] A lack of a car also makes him fear a return to poverty, since in his neighborhood any car at all was a sign of luxury.

There was a church of brick, in a neighborhood at first pleasant and then deteriorating. [...]

[...] Nor have I resumed the midnight walks I used to take over the hilly streets of our neighborhood; I used to look forward to seeing the shadowy deer as they moved down into the streets from the woods north of the hill house. [...]

(Jane grew up in an Irish neighborhood in Saratoga Springs, NY, and Father Trainor was an Irish priest of the old school. [...]