“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

He projected his resentment into the future, and against all other publishers for awhile, anticipating the same sort of response as he felt the ESP book had received. [...]

[...] They often happen when she moves her left arm, she said—the two sort of working in tandem. [...]

[...] “I was sort of getting that it would be something like that after supper,” she said. [...]

[...] Perhaps there was an electric storm outside, and electricity of some sort in my room. [...]

That sort of exposure, in your terms, has not happened before, and of itself it forces both mind and heart to question some dictates that have been taken for granted in the past—for in the past almost any kind of destruction or war or violence was justified if it was done in God’s name, or if the soldiers were marching “on the side of right.”

[...] But these are to be carried on but once daily, and if he tries any other sort of experiment, such as he tried with the Father Trainor poetry session last week, then he is not to attempt his regular psychological time experiment for that day.

I do not approve of a whole day being given over to the sort of experimentation carried on by Ruburt last week in the Father Trainor sessions. [...]

[...] The physical body that you imagine consists of some sort of separate consciousness, controlling a framework of completely unconscious parts, is quite farfetched.

[...] There is so much that you do not know, and so much to be filled in merely in this sort of outline form, that I am appalled, completely. [...]

[...] Indeed, today was the first day in some time—at least a number of days—when I hadn’t noticed some sort of chest symptoms of some degree, light or stronger. [...]

(On my way to 330 Georgia called me in to her room and said she’s to have some sort of back surgery next Monday or Tuesday. [...]

This private probability
isn’t half bad
when you consider
the public worlds
we had to travel
to get here:
molecules waiting
in the wings,
looking for
the precise
time-space
to leap into,
tiny strands of
consciousness
reuniting
after centuries,
sorting out ourselves
from a million
other forms
we’ve taken part in—
reassembling
just those we wanted
to call Rob and Jane.

[...] He did not have to say that I said I was a spirit or I was some sort of a White God or that I was an illuminati. [...]

[...] This does involve a projection of sorts, and yet it still must be called a pseudoprojection.

A designation of some sort. [...]

[...] We don’t know whether the following data is in answer to the question: “A designation of some sort. [...]

[...] Just as we’re ready to begin some sort of working activity, Wade Alexander visited. [...]

[...] Today Jane and I sort of disagreed [I think] on what Seth was saying. [...]

[...] Something of the sort of a blood clot in the leg, that type of illness.

[...] He loses the touch of it, and falls back on other layers of the self which are not reliable for this sort of data.

[...] That sort of thing when you use physical suggestions, rather than the use of words that seem like absolutes, where comparisons are involved almost automatically between a given situation and a desired one.

[...] Now this is his projection, and one he only realized at break: he felt that any incomplete manuscripts were indications of a waste of time, and that you thought he should publish everything he wrote, and that an unpublished manuscript was a blot of sorts. [...]

[...] She had the feeling Seth wanted to say it was rock; the other day Jane had the conscious impression that it was tin or galvanized metal, of the sort Bill Gallagher uses in fashioning some of his modern sculpture.

[...] In a light trance state, some quite complicated manipulations are necessary in this sort of situation.

[...] As we sat in the living room, which was very clean and neat, and well lit now since darkness was falling, Jane said she felt a sort of pyramid or cone effect, directed at me as I sat across the room from her in the rocker.

[...] I am sort of seeing things as they do. [...]

[...] It was sort of humorous. [...]

[...] I said I supposed the leg was tense so as to serve as a sort of splint for the broken bone near the knee. [...]