“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I learned the name of the enzymatic debriding agent, or ointment that’s been prescribed for the ulcer on Jane’s right knee, Travase Ointment [Sutlains Ointment], and copied down much of the information on the small tube one of the nurses had left lying on a table in 330. [...]

[...] I had the fan on, directed in Jane’s general direction as she sat across the coffee table from me. [...]

I do not suggest now that you work with tables alone. [...]

[...] When you work with tables, work with those who are experienced in such things...

[...] Our table at the dancing establishment Saturday night had a top of simulated wood grain. [...]

[...] We do not know to what “something dark of rectangular shape” refers to, unless it’s the shape of the table we sat at in the dancing establishment.

(At the supper table tonight Jane and I discussed our painting and writing, and said we hoped Seth would discuss several problems that had arisen in these fields. [...]

[...] Working with the table was sufficient, you see. [...]

The table, and I’m afraid this is somewhat review, Joseph, the table as you know is not solid. [...] Your outer senses lie when they experience the table as solid. [...]

[...] Perhaps at a table.” [...] None of us sat at a table however during the recording, or the evening; the Gallaghers do not have such a table in their living room.

[...] Perhaps at a table.

(At the supper table this evening we had been speculating about the times Seth had given in connection with his life as a pope, both in the ESP class session for May 25, 1971, and the 588th session in this chapter. [...]

[...] But this time, she thought, she’d been alert: When she realized that the material was “running through her,” as she often puts it [meaning she isn’t aware of Seth’s presence], she sat up, turned on a night light, and began to record the data on the pad she keeps on her bedside table. [...]

[...] At 9 PM Jane was sitting opposite me at our living room table, where I take my notes. [...]

[...] Her cigarette had now burned down, and to put it out she groped about for the ashtray on the table, as she talked.)

[...] Now, he ordinarily moves about before he goes to work at his table, and takes less time to arrive here. [...]

(This time I sat at our living room table in my old accustomed place. Jane began to speak from the rocker but had uttered only a few words when she got up and took a chair at the table with me. [...]

[...] I would say this subjective feeling was enhanced because Jane was not actively pacing about as she used to with her eyes open, but sitting comfortably at table with me. [...]

(As she continued speaking, Jane now got up to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, then returned to her chair as she lit it.)

[...] In any case I will not be responsible for five fingers lying weakly on the table, broken and disjointed because I have so misused them. [...]

[...] At that time of night she wasn’t about to use her typing table as a support while she “walked” from the living room, where we were having the session, around the room divider and out into the kitchen to get her smokes; instead she remained in her chair and maneuvered herself along with her feet. [...]

[...] Jane got herself back into position across the coffee table from me while I described what I’d learned lately about Cro-Magnon man, who had lived in Europe some 35,000 years ago. [...]

They appear to lack the apparent physical durability of, say, a table or a chair, the table and chair being examples of physical realities. [...]

[...] This morning Jane also mentioned that she had the idea of trying to walk with the typing table —something she hasn’t done since last November 16, 1980, by the way—so I got it out. [...] She wants me to get the table for her each day now until she is able to walk with it in the old way. [...]

[...] She now can take, say, ten steps at a time, leaning on her typing table, instead of the one or two previously possible. [...]

“Yesterday walked with the typing table still further, the full length of the kitchen. [...]

[...] His foot rests upon a coffee table, as he moves back and forth in his rocking chair. [...]

[...] Some of you may be sitting at a table. [...]

[...] After supper I sat down at my old table in the living room, as I always did, to work on my poetry. [...]

[...] My body sat at the table, my hands furiously scribbling down the words and ideas that flashed through my head. [...]

The paperback we’d just purchased was on the coffee table between us as we sat talking. [...]

[...] We hardly tasted the dinner because two “fans” came just as Rob set the chicken on the table. [...]

[...] And in return for Seth speaking, Dr. Guy staged his own little magic show for Jane and me—to our amazement and intense interest—as the three of us sat around the living-room table.