“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(At first I thought it was a trick of sunlight—which was quite diluted as it came through the room’s east windows—but all of a sudden I stopped to look at the painting as it sat on the shelf I’d built high up on the south wall just inside the door. For a moment I was almost transfixed—for the painting, I suddenly saw, was alive. The girl’s violet eyes stared down at me as though they would move behind their violet glasses at any moment. I stared. She stared back. And I felt life there. The flesh and hair and sweater looked alive even though they never moved. Yet I half expected them to. It was a meeting of eyes.

[...] Sitting quietly in the dim light, staring at the ring, I soon realized that with a nudge or two from the imagination the unwary observer might not have too much trouble seeing what he wanted to.

[...] Nothing happened as we stared at the ring. [...]

[...] The three of us sat shoulder to shoulder, staring into the bath, which is large and tiled with white. [...]

[...] And then the head tilted and looked down, while Jane stared straight ahead into the mirror.

and stared as it moved (interruption)

[...] Since I didn’t have one, I substituted a lovely blue bottle which was filled with water and into which I stared intently for a good half hour. [...]

After staring into the bottle, I began talking with Rob in the living room. [...]

[...] Both men were smiling as they stared at me. [...]

Finally, I just pulled the bedcovers up to my chin and sat there, staring back at them. [...]

[...] Jane stared at me intently as I spoke each word.

[...] It was the same feeling I’d had staring at my parents in their respective caskets. [...]

[...] Sitting quietly in the dim light, staring at the ring, I realized that the unwary observer might not have too much trouble seeing whatever he wanted to see.

[...] Nothing happened as we stared at the ring again. [...]

[...] And then the head in the mirror tilted, and looked down, while Jane herself sat with her head erect, staring straight ahead into the mirror.

[...] After all, that’s a normal enough reaction—usually when you look into a mirror, it gives a faithful reproduction, and no woman is going to be pleased to see a weird-looking apparition staring back.

[...] … As Jane continued her delivery, I noticed that Bill was staring quite consistently into the open bath doorway, yet I didn’t pay any particular attention to this. [...]

[...] This is what he had been staring at the whole time. [...]

[...] In the meantime Bill kept staring into the open doorway. [...]

Jane handed the sketch back to Bill, who continued to stare into the doorway.

[...] He sat down, but she stared at the table. [...]

[...] Before he spoke he tilted his brown-gray head at an earnest angle and stared at her with his usually severe face now wreathed with smiles. [...]

(I realized on this particular evening that although my eyes were closed, I was staring into another pair of eyes that seemed to be within inches of my own, and had been doing so for some seconds. [...]

[...] These eyes merely stared back at me from beneath heavy black brows.

[...] She stared at me and tapped upon the table for emphasis. [...]

[...] Her eyes had been open more than closed, very dark as she stared at me. [...]

(Now as the discussion progressed the three of us sat in the living room around our coffee table, staring into the open bath door and exchanging half-joking remarks about apparitions. [...]

[...] She stared at me. [...]

I have been with you while you stared into the doorway. [...]

[...] She was staring right at me. [...]

[...] The direct stare of her eyes, very large, very dark, was at times disconcerting. [...]

(Jane had been staring steadily at me while she spoke, and this in turn impelled me to look at her as often as I could while I wrote. [...]

[...] My writing hand felt a kind of numb fatigue, and my eyes burned from cigarette smoke; but Seth/Jane, staring at me and smiling from so close by, seemed set and able to go on forever.)

[...] As Jane continued her delivery I noticed that Bill was staring quite consistently into the open bath doorway; yet I did not pay great attention to this, taking it somewhat for granted that Seth would use Bill/Mark only as a talking point relating to whatever subject he discussed.)

[...] Bill in the meantime kept staring into the open bath doorway, and as before I could see nothing from my position at the table.)

(Jane handed the sketch back to Bill, who continued to stare into the dark bath doorway.)

[...] In this one, as Bill, Jane and I stared into a mirror, the reflection of Jane’s head changed in size and shape, and finally appeared to hang in space just forward of the rest of her reflection. [...]

[...] She stared directly at Bill.)

[...] She ended the delivery by staring at Bill again, and speaking in a loud and positive voice.

(Jane stared at me and grinned broadly; and for a second I thought she really was going to sound out.)

[...] Jane was still very relaxed, even during the session her eyes had closed often as she spoke for Seth, or she had stared at me beneath very heavy lids.)

[...] As soon as I voiced this thought, Jane stopped in her pacing and stared at me. [...]

[...] Jane continued to stare at me as she stood by the window.

[...] Hands on hips, she stared at me in an undoubted humorous way.)

[...] What if everyone has those abilities?” I stared at him. [...]

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

[...] I stared at Rob.

(I’d felt sad, staring down at the striped brown, black and white body, and remembered Seth’s material about how both parties in any death share the experience. [...]

[...] It’s quite a psychic, psychological, and physical education to stare at oneself in a mirror over a period of three months!

[...] Jane spent much time staring at her hands. [...]

[...] While I stared at it it appeared to be solid, and very nearly animated—note the wind effect mentioned earlier.