“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“Are you open to questions tonight?” I asked as we sat at the card table waiting for the session. [...]

(After family left we sat at the card table, and to my surprise Jane told me to get the notebook. [...]

[...] She leaned forward and tapped upon the coffee table between us, her eyes wide and dark.)

[...] Several times today she walked a few steps, with either the aid of the kitchen counter or her table, and did well.

(I had placed the Kennedy rocker opposite my writing table. [...]

[...] As usual she sat in the rocking chair, across from my table. [...]

(During sessions now, Jane sits in our rocker across from my writing table. [...]

(She sat in her usual place on the couch, and I faced her in her chair across the coffee table. [...]

(Once again she sat on the couch, and I sat in her chair facing her across the coffee table—with behind me, the closed-off fireplace. [...]

(And as usual, I told her, I’d read it to her at the breakfast table.)

(Once again Jane sat at the table with me as I took notes.)

[...] In that regard, every person paints his or her own portrait in living color — a portrait that does not simply sit in a tranquil pose at a table, but one that has the full capacity for action. [...]

[...] When she took her glasses off and placed them upon the coffee table before her, she was in trance. [...]

[...] Physical objects cannot move through each other, as a table cannot move through a chair. [...]

[...] Standing by the breezeway table, leaning on it, is excellent, though this should be gently done at first.

[...] They are knotted into masses, loose and disintegrating, but presently aggravated by strain as Ruburt’s weight on the walking table “bruises” those ligaments and muscles.

[...] The drawing is reproduced on page 232; it is a pen tracing made from the original on a light table.

[...] No session had been planned for this evening but as the four of us sat around our coffee table Seth came through at about 10:30 PM.

(The result was that I sat in her chair, facing her across the inevitable coffee table. [...]

[...] At one point Ruburt saw the ape still male, and then a portion of himself sitting at the library table, for in your position it is the animal instincts themselves that propel you to search for answers, to write books, to explore in your particular way. [...]

You felt guilty about the picnic table for the same reason. [...]