“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] At the same time I found another pack in my pocket. [...] I was so certain I only had one pack. [...]

[...] 2 at Three Mile Island overheated and approached a meltdown of the uranium-packed fuel rods in its core. [...]

[...] Now, her already acute hearing began to magnify sounds — the rustle of cellophane as she opened a pack of cigarettes, the quality of my voice as I talked to our cat, Willy, the noise of my handling the newspaper. [...]

(Jane located the inside box in which the sweater was packed, and remembered this box being inside another. [...]

[...] We took a six-pack with us and made the short trip out of town and up the dirt road along the hillside.

[...] After all, the two of you rode horses at the head of the pack.

[...] I think of a pack of cigarettes, not American brand, though neither of them smoke. [...]

(I felt all right, but Jane, still in trance, held up her empty cigarette pack. [...]

[...] Now, over my protests, she wanted a fresh pack of cigarettes. [...]

[...] Now she groped for her pack of cigarettes, and lit one. [...]

[...] It was winter; the ground was covered with packed snow; so were the roads, although there were no heaping snow banks.

[...] So if you’ll get me a new pack of cigarettes….” [...]

[...] In the meantime I’ve begun what seems to be an awesome task: packing many of our possessions into an endless series of cartons that had once held things like wine, mayonnaise, cereal, pipe fittings, and so forth.

[...] Jane and I furnished wine, so did the Gallaghers, and the Wilburs brought two six-packs of beer—one of Draft Beer, the other of Carling Black Label.

[...] Get me a pack of cigarettes, and I’ll do it….”

[...] Finally, in 1971 Tam converted her contract for Seth, Dreams … into one for Seth Speaks. Jane didn’t keep on trying to sell Seth, Dreams … Neither did I, and somehow that perfectly good book ended up packed away. [...]

(As she continued speaking, Jane now got up to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, then returned to her chair as she lit it.)

[...] Once my right arm suddenly moved out to the left, throwing my pack of cigarettes I was holding to the floor with sudden energy. [...]

[...] I think of a pack of cigarettes, not American brand, though neither of them smoke. [...]

[...] Since then I’ve packed full these notes for Session 931, in order to round out our personal, professional, and secular situations—yet, looking back, I wonder if I’ve properly put everything in perspective: There are other sessions I could have quoted instead of the ones chosen, other notes I could have written; there are other questions Jane and I could have asked, and, perhaps, other conclusions we could have drawn.