“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Under certain drug experiments, and experiences, the memories within the selves rise up and shout. [...]

[...] The room was filled with noise, all manner of exclamations, shouts, comments, etc. [...]

[...] This ended, but now Jane had taken off, evidently wrapped up in the role briefly, for she shouted at a fast and furious pace, shaking her head violently, eyes closed. [...]

[...] The individual shouts that his life does indeed have meaning, while the scientists until now have vehemently stated otherwise. [...]

[...] At one period Jane was going to shout “forget it” to the voice, but she couldn’t find her voice to do so.

[...] Jane initiated her ESP classes late in 1967—so each Tuesday night for the next seven and a half years, our friend put up with a vast amount of shouting and banging over his head. [...]

[...] (Intently:) You mentally shout in such situations that you do not feel what you feel.

[...] I knew it wasn’t my physical head, but I hoped that my shout would either frighten the creature away or attract some kind of help.

[...] Finally I returned to my body and stood up to the cries and shouts of recognition. [...]

Or worse—what comic book reader wants Clark Kent to shout out from the phone booth, or wherever “You can do this too, or your version, because we all have a reality in which we are Clark Kent and Superman at one and the same time?” Such people simply want Superman to perform his miracles.

[...] Jane spoke from her position on the floor, with her eyes closed, her voice strong but not shouting.)

[...] Now if you listen without listening too hard, in any intimate moment you can hear your molecules shout, if you will forgive me, with their own optimism. [...]

[...] This is the Irish grandmother, the mother, and the neighborhood shouting: Jane, do not run. [...]

(Now, as if by way of punctuation, Seth/Jane’s voice really shouted out:)

(Now Jane gave a great shout.)

[...] I am not suggesting that you adopt a bland, idiotic, male Pollyanna smile, nor that you shout love, prosperity and health from the rooftops while the world below is steeped in poverty and ignorance.

[...] There was a little shouting at me—very little—which I didn’t record, but no tears. [...]

(Jane’s voice grew to a near shout, briefly. [...]

[...] Unaware of the passage of time, she then was awakened out of a sound sleep, not dreaming either, by a thunderously loud voice which shouted to her or at her: “Good night!” Marian told us this was so real to her, so loud and unmistakable, filling the entire room as with thunder, that she sat bolt upright in bed, fully awake and quite frightened. [...]

[...] If you play those games and do poorly, you at least have a right to shout “foul” now and then—and I will tell you something: Prentice looks out for your interests in the person of John (Nelson) far more than you give him credit for. [...]

I am ready to end the session, as I have been trying to watch your time and since Ruburt sends up such mighty shouts if I keep you over.

The idiot swears
That the birds are holy.
He shouts as the starlings drop
And the police chuckle good-naturedly
“Stop. [...]