“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Their strenuous efforts will be endlessly appreciated: Anyone who has ever carried heavy furniture, or innumerable boxes of goods, up and down steep and turning flights of stairs will understand the gratitude Jane and I feel.

[...] As she came out of trance we heard the paperboy coming up the stairs. [...]

[...] A connection with this photograph, and a two-or-three-story house, a frame house with brick or stone stairs at the front.

[...] The time spent in performing such simple chores as limping down the stairs and out to the car, for example, is far more on a daily basis than any that would be spent chatting with a neighbor, or even visiting, etc. [...]

There was a possibility at one time, for a particular period of time, when for various reasons your Miss Callahan was in danger of falling down the front flight of stairs. [...]

[...] I admit that I am stretching our ant tale here, but imagine further that our little fellow becomes familiar with everyone in, say, an apartment house, learning to recognize all of the footsteps that go up and down the stairs. [...]

(Also on Friday: On the way up our stairs tonight I had a sudden strong feeling that an envelope was under our door. [...]

(Gert told about coming up the cellar stairs on the day her father died and how she seemed to feel very fearful and would not look up from the floor. [...]

Selves that ascend like stairs... [...]

[...] He went through all kinds of pretenses, smiling when he tried to go down the stairs, trying to tell himself that it did not hurt, and far too upset to make use of the unending line of positive suggestions he tried frantically to give himself.

[...] Nor had I heard anyone coming up the stairs.

[...] Perhaps stairs leading down.

[...] The stairs led downward to the shop.

[...] He knew that the mother then went down the stairs to bring in the carriage, but when he tried to perceive this, the motion became too fast. [...]

[...] I hear a bell tinkling and am pulled out the office door, down the corridor, through the cellar, up the stairs to my bed. [...]

[...] We go up a set of outside stairs and into an apartment which seems to have a large living room. [...]

I pushed open the back fire door and the six of us clumped down the open stairs that Jane and I had used so many times. [...] Indeed, as we left the stairs two dogs in a back apartment set up a furious barking as they scratched at what I knew were kitchen windows. [...]

[...] We tramped noisily up the narrow and turning stairs to face a fire door guarding the second floor. [...]

(As break arrived we heard John Bradley returning up the stairs. [...]