“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I think it was that late morning that Margaret, our neighbor, dropped in late morning to tell us she and Joe would be heading for their cottage, but somewhere I got it in my head that it would be one of those summer weekends when people prowled around—found excuses to go to malls or visit strange towns or just wander the streets or through public buildings—or visit here, if there were any fans in the nearby locality.

The phone rang, though. Peg G. from the Star Gazette called; there was a fan from South Africa, just in town from NYC to see me. He was right there waiting, would I talk to him at least—on the phone? My whole arm hurt as I picked up the receiver.... I’d been right about people prowling around all right!

He feared his mother prowled the house during darkness—this also accounting for some of the sleep difficulty.

He had always enjoyed being somewhat disreputable—had seen himself and you prowling around the edges of society (as Jane had said earlier today)—not simply observers of it but to a large extent apart from its foibles, and certainly not mired in all of its conventional misunderstandings. [...]

[...] Willy prowled about the legs of the chair briefly, then jumped back up in it and once again curled up.

[...] / I’ve prowled around it / for too long /
in circles; sniffing; / and I never did / say thanks.

[...] The sirens continued, reminding me of animals prowling about in the distance. [...]

[...] Peggy was to prowl around, seeking out compositions, etc., and to take pictures whenever she chose. [...]

[...] By 8:50 PM, Willy was once again prowling through the apartment, both alert and stealthy at the same time. [...]

[...] We seem to be forever prowling around the confines of our own nature. [...]