“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] “Come on, sweet body,” she chanted softly. [...]

[...] That sweet energy is free, it is available, it is yours and it is here. [...]

Now, sweet dreams.

[...] Now, I will give you some information on the subject, though it is too late this evening, and if you want some specific exercises that you personally can use, I do not know that you will smell as sweet as a rose on your return, but we will see to it that you get the exercises. [...]

[...] How blessed, bodies, leaping alive from the microscopic molecules that combine to walk down the autumn streets; assemble to form the sweet senses’ discrimination that perceives, for a time, the precise joy and unity of even one passing afternoon. [...]

[...] My sweet pickleheads, you are so sweet and sour at the same time.

He is a sweet creature.

[...] You did not want buyers around, and you did not want the marketplace, and you wanted to progress at your own sweet rate—as you are. [...]

A dear and cozy good evening to you in your sweet house — with (amused) the baseball game ahead of you, and all of the loving paraphernalia that is so specific in your space and time.

[...] The sweet peas and marigolds are doing great, the godetia and dianthus not so great, so far.

[...] Leading you, I hope, sweetly and gently up the path that I want you to follow, and broadening your ideas so that you will be able to read the regular Seth material and follow it. [...]

(Yesterday and today she did paintings of a bouquet of daisies and sweet peas that the Bumbalos brought back from their lakeside cottage. [...]

[...] They serve some drinks this evening that has a sweet aftertaste, like a liqueur. [...]

[...] There is a rhythm, again, to all existence, and so in your terms your species returned to its home planet, to renew its roots, refresh its natural stock, to return to nature, to find solace again amid the sweet ancient heritage of dusk and dawn.

[...] (Long pause, eyes closed, head down.) He left for your young brother a sense (smile) of sweetness, an innocent, untouched quality that will always sustain him.

I sit in a swivel chair
with smooth ball bearings.
Without warning, I turn myself
around in a complete circle,
but nothing disturbs
my world vision,
and objects appear on all sides
with sweet precision,
as if a projector in my head
sends out invisible rays that turn
into images, so I
always seem inside
dimensions of depth
and weight.

I bid you then a fond good evening—and to your sweet creature, also.

[...] The sweet parcel of physical existence, I have told you, exists as much by merit of what it does not include as it does by merit of your experience. [...]

(“The incredible sweetness of their songs followed me even while I found myself laughing…. [...]

[...] “He’s being real affectionate and sweet... [...]