“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] The back porch door was wide open in the gathering dusk; even though we’ve passed the longest day of the year now, it was still not dark.)

[...] Things have been hectic here today, interfering with my painting: Frank Longwell and his brother started work today on the front porch, which is to be glassed in so that Jane can have more room. [...]

[...] A porch-type thing that is up somewhat as on stilts.

The men, working here (on Jane’s back room and porch), are distracting. [...]

[...] He sat on the family porch Sunday to escape the house as he did as a child in Saratoga. [...]

[...] While this is necessary, the whole remainder of the self could not be left to an organizer or caretaker who did not focus his attentions within the depths but sat, as it were, on the front porch of the house, leaving the inner workings unattended. [...]

[...] After some coaxing on the back porch, I got Mitzi rolling around in the catnip on the towel, but only half succeeded in wrapping her up. [...]

The last evening of the month was quite warm for our area at this time of year—66 degrees—and we had front and kitchen windows of the hill house open so the cats could go out on the porches as they pleased. [...]

[...] Part of the front lawn was rather steeply banked, part of the curving flagstone walk was stepped as it rose up to the porch. [...]

Suddenly, without transition, I found myself descending through the air to land on a long narrow porch that was surrounded by a low railing. [...]

[...] A flight of four or five steps, stone or concrete, led up to the back porch of the main house.

[...] It proved that a TV antenna had been loosened over our porch roof, and a repairman asked us for the loan of a flashlight. [...]

[...] And we did find the back porch door open. [...]

[...] This was accounted for to our satisfaction at the time of our second visit; trying to shoot the bolt from inside the porch, Jane and I found we had to exert considerable pressure against the door in order to line the bolt up with the door frame; and once shut the door was exceedingly sturdy. [...]

[...] We sat on the long wide front porch and drank the beer. [...]

[...] We didn’t see each other as often as we used to, but one morning each week, on his way to school, David left his magazines and newspapers at our back porch door, whether or not we were up, or saw him.

[...] Jane sat in the doorway that opens from her writing room onto the screened-in back porch of the hill house, and watched the birds searching out the wet remnants of the feed I’d scattered in the driveway this morning. [...]

[...] Two days ago, she worked on our new front porch for the first time; she sat in the slanting sunlight and wrote down the information she psychically picked up from the “world view” of William James, the American psychologist and philosopher who lived from 1842–1910. [...]

[...] I found her locked out on the screened-in front porch.

At the last moment, however, before you left, Ruburt made up his mind and told you to unlock the porch door. [...]

(Returning home from a drive on Sunday, we were surprised to see Miss Callahan and her companion sitting on the front porch; this was something we had never seen her do in the four years we have lived here; Jane said that Miss Callahan appeared to be very restless, and that the last time she had visited her Miss Callahan had doodled and written constantly on a pad without seeming to be aware that she was doing so.