“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] He played with the idea of checking some notes, and then taking his chapter (on James) to the living room table, and darkening his room. [...]

[...] Your discussion this evening at the table about finances led him deeper into those feelings he tries so hard to avoid. [...]

[...] Discovering that she’d used her last book match, she pointed to our living room table.)

(On March 5 the frontmatter proofs for Volume 2 — consisting of items like the table of contents, a poem of Jane’s, the titles of her previous books, and so forth — arrived for checking; we expect to see the proofs for Volume 2’s index in a couple of weeks. [...]

[...] I believe it is larger, and sits on a table with a white cloth. [...]

[...] The interesting bit of information here is that a deliberate effort was made to spread the blanket on a grassy spot near the picnic tables, so that a softer bed would be furnished.

[...] This time, instead of diving at her ankles, he jumped up on my table; then as Jane walked by he reached out at her; his claws caught in her slacks. [...]

(Jane experienced a bout of crying at the supper table this evening. [...]

[...] She delivered the underlined material above by pounding on the table as she spoke. [...]

(Now Jane came up to the table I use as a desk during sessions. [...]

[...] The second same over me around 11:30 P.M. as we sat around the table eating. [...]

(The design on the napkin covers one quarter of the surface area, and it was this quarter which was “turned up” to us when the waitress placed the folded napkins on the table before us. [...]

(And here, staring at me, Jane pounded the table for emphasis.)

[...] The table around which Ruburt walks senses Ruburt, even as he senses it. [...]

[...] A table with a lamp sits beside it. [...]

[...] As this answer came I saw a large sunny yellow room, with a table and chairs arranged against a far long wall. [...]

(In between these two sightings I saw a middle-aged man in rolled-up white shirt sleeves, sitting at a kitchen-type table and staring to my right. [...]

Sometimes the artist in me visually comes to the aid of the writer by laying out pages of material and notes side by side upon a table or two. [...]

[...] I woke up at 3 A.M. and wrote the dreams down at once, using the small bedside table. [...]

[...] It rings through the atoms and molecules of the table. [...]