“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

If you sell yourselves, this is what you will do. [...] If you do not sell yourselves, you will say, I am an individual. [...]

If you want our books in toto to sell far better, you have only to send out such messages, and imagine them doing so.

[...] (Amused:) I will tell you what you want, my dear friend: you want the books to sell very well, and the message to go out clearly to all. [...]

If you passionately desire that others possess them, and benefit from them then you shall sell them, and because of your desire you will take those necessary measures. But regardless of those measures, the paintings will sell.

[...] When you strongly desire to sell your paintings, my friend, you will do so. [...]

[...] Tells me a big shot at Bantam called liking God of Jane and inquiring about paperback rights, assures me our paperbacks are selling okay. [...]

[...] Why didn’t it sell—did readers avoid it because it was Jane’s own book, or poetry, or both? [...]

[...] Poetry will sell if it is conventionally religious, or conventionally arty, or conventionally sentimental.

([Janice:] “But he want us to try and talk other people into using it and to sell them. [...]

[...] If they make you nauseous do not sell them. [...]

(“What do you think of my dream about my selling my paintings last night?”)

[...] Grace gave John sales figures for Seth Speaks which are much too low, so we really have little idea of how the book is selling, judging by those. [...]

[...] The books are selling. [...]

When Debbie took Jane and me through the Foster Avenue house on February 5, she told us that another couple — who live in Sayre, and whom I’ll call the Steins — had also inspected the property and planned to make an offer for it, while trying at the same time to sell their present home. [...] We were then in for another surprise — for the Johnsons are the agents in charge of selling the Steins’ residence in Sayre.

They can be “con men,” selling products supposed to have miraculous values, blinding the local populace with their city airs. [...]

[...] The man who owned the house thought of pianos as his art (he was in the business of selling them), and the living room was simply meant to set a piano off.

[...] The editor turned down story after story, assuring me each time that I was certain to sell him the next one. [...]

Trying to prove the existence of telepathy and clairvoyance to a self-professed “hard-nosed psychologist,” sell fiction to one of the best magazines in the country, and conduct our own tests in the Seth sessions was rather a bit to take on in one year—as I discovered.

[...] You want the books to sell well. [...] There is no reason to feel that you should (underlined three times) “be out there selling books.” [...]

This noncontact tendency has also had something to do with the fact that you have not attempted to sell your paintings more actively, and all of this fits in with the material I gave you lately along these lines—the male and female connotations.

You feel that abstracts in this respect are neutral, and therefore you feel safe in marketing and selling them. [...]

(“Well, sending out suggestions about selling books implies a change of attitude to some extent—”)

[...] I was more interested in information on our reactions to the books selling well, and the resulting publicity, than in the question of guests, per se. [...]

[...] I have no regrets about selling the painting, though.)

[...] Why was Frank Corio assigned the task of selling the house next door to us? Why did the Millers encounter him at just that particular time, and why was he, of all the real estate agents in Elmira, the one who succeeded in selling them the house they bought?

[...] In the fall Frank Corio was given the job of selling the place, and soon did so — to a family, the Millers, who were moving to Elmira from a distant state. [...]

[...] They served to show why you worked at home, or did not sell your work at galleries: you had to take care of Ruburt. [...]

[...] He is deeply afraid of finishing his book for fear it will sell. [...]

The difficulties began with the selling of the first paperback and were accentuated later. [...]

[...] Book sell.

(We have been giving suggestions since this series of sessions began that the books would sell ever better, and also that we’d begin seeing more people of the kind we want to see.)

[...] In the 233rd session Seth said the article would sell, without naming the buyer, “providing Ruburt follows the way which has been set out for him.” [...]

[...] However, the poetry book will indeed sell.

[...] Offhand I cannot think of how he could advance within the firm, unless he moved into the selling end of it. [...]