“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] He went out to the kitchen, where the ball after he played with it finally rolled. [...]

[...] I could examine the differences between my hands, for example, and see the other set of fingers, and the white glow that ran up to the edge of my rolled-up sweater. [...]

[...] to please you I will make a bargain with you: I will not mention your problem if you do not want me to—(There followed another humorous exchange between Seth and Bill.) Some Jesuits are sorrowful jokers, and laugh while the tears roll down their cheeks. [...]

[...] Then I see him quite clearly in miniature, jumping and rolling high in the air, throwing his arms out....

[...] I would have to let such comments roll off my back. [...]

(In between these two sightings I saw a middle-aged man in rolled-up white shirt sleeves, sitting at a kitchen-type table and staring to my right. [...]

(Searching for a word evidently, Jane rolled this one off quickly. [...]

[...] She seemed to come out of her trance easily enough, but her eyes rolled up a few times. [...]

[...] I rolled my eyes and pretended to stare out the window.

[...] Her eyes rolled up, then closed again. [...]

[...] The test object of course is connected to the photos also indicated on page 198, and these particular photos were connected with “other”s since they were the last two exposures on a roll of film.

[...] This particular roll of Polaroid color film had been exposed to heat; Don took the chance that it would still give legible pictures. [...]

[...] If I said: “Apples roll down grassy inclines,” you would also have to agree. [...]

[...] Our program of self-help gradually began to diminish, as had many of them before.⁸ Finally, in an effort to cheer up Jane one day as she sat idly at the typing table in her writing room, I tried a variation of a tactic that had worked so well for her inception of Seth’s The Nature of the Psyche almost six and a half years ago: This time, standing in back of her, I put my arms around her and rolled a clean sheet of paper into her typewriter—but here’s the note she wrote the next day:

[...] Aside from all of those points, however, I think it quite remarkable that despite her physical hassles Jane approached the rolling cadences, the inspired certainty of delivery, that she’d achieved over two years ago in some of her sessions for chapters 1 and 2 of Dreams.

[...] This dispenser is composed of round and curving lines, has a circular hole through it perhaps an inch and a half in diameter, a larger round design in red printed about this hole, and of course contains a round roll of Scotch tape perhaps two inches in diameter.

[...] Sometimes we play rock ‘n’ roll music, for instance, while I read a poem—and this I would consider prayer.

[...] She told me that “something” wanted to manifest through her so slowly that it was almost inexpressible; she’d felt deep rolling sounds going through her, yearning to be translated, yearning to make sense in our terms. [...]

[...] There’s always a long slow rate of turnover in our labors, it seems: As one book or project is finished, another rises almost effortlessly to take its place, and everything rolls along together until the next large change comes about.

[...] Jane was on a creative roll. [...]

On Saturday nights just the two of us often went dancing in the local joints while Jane was still able to—and I still like rock-and-roll.