“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Killing is not one of them however, nor are wars.

One of the tactics leaders in the West are still pursuing is to organize world opinion against the Soviet stay in Afghanistan and the war between Iraq and Iran. [...] Perhaps the Iraqi-Iranian war will subside because of the exhaustion of those countries. [...]

[...] She finally told me that when she first looked at the envelope object during break, she read my penciled word “Man-a-me,” to the right of the poem used as object, as “Man-O-War,” which is the name of a very famous race horse. [...]

[...] Consciously such knowledge is not given to the ego for obvious reasons, but every organism, through its inner senses, is equipped with subconscious knowledge of personal disasters, deaths, and so forth, the personality itself deciding beforehand what it considers disastrous; and the members of the species as a whole know in advance of their wars. [...]

[...] In one of them I’m on a troop train [in World War II] traveling to Karachi, India, and in the other I’m asleep in a cold barrack. I wrote in the book that ‘I was conscious of every movement, sound, and odor on the train, yet conscious that I was in a barrack that was very chilly. [...]

[...] No man is sent accidentally, and innocently, off to war. [...]

[...] For next I wonder how the human creature, whose bodily components each possess such a ceaseless, rational integrity, can often function so irrationally as a whole, through the creation of war, poverty, pollution, disease, and so forth. [...]

[...] They show up as wars and social disorders on national scales, and as household crises, as illnesses (pause), as calamities on personal levels as well.

[...] In the same way, your government funds [also] go into military defenses to prevent war, because if you do not trust your own body’s good intent toward you, you can hardly trust any good intent on the part of your fellow men.

[...] (Pause.) Faced with the exterior nightmares of wars and natural disasters, the conscious mind is still directed outward into that world with which it knows it was formed to cope. [...]

[...] According to Seth both of us lived in Boston before the Civil War, male and female then, as now.)

[...] Particularly when I consider the “news” on the typical front page of the typical daily newspaper: All too accurately the “stories” of war, pollution, corruption, and poverty and crime show just how little we human beings know or understand ourselves at this time—and how far we have to go, individually and en masse. As the years have passed, I’ve come to trust more and more my own insights into our behavior as a species within the framework of a nature that I believe our kind has co-created with every other species on the planet (to confine my theme to just our immediate environment for the moment). [...]

[...] “Granted some part of us knows what we’re doing, still we seem hell-bent on destroying the planet, if not through war, then through pollution.”

[...] When I was drafted during the second World War I was given aptitude tests; to my surprise I did well on mechanical subjects, and ended up as an airplane mechanic and instrument specialist in the Air Transport Command.)

(Seth deplored our ideas on war and peace, which must improve if we are to survive. [...]

[...] This and not war, is the meaning of aggression. [...]

[...] Wendell Crowley is a boyhood friend of Ward’s, and also an old friend of mine; he was my editor in New York City for some years after World War II. [...]

(See the 59th session for the data on the past lives of Jane, Dee Masters and myself in Boston, prior to the Civil War; and see again the 87th session.)

[...] Telepathy will be proven without a doubt, and utilized, sadly enough in the beginning, for purposes of war and intrigue. [...]

[...] Jane was on a liberal arts scholarship awarded to her because of her gifts and work in writing; her husband, a World War II veteran, qualified under a government program and majored in philosophy. [...]

[...] I too am a World War II veteran; after three years of service in the Air Force Transport Command I was discharged in 1942. [...]

[...] At suppertime that night I received a telephone call from Ed Robbins, an old friend I’d gone to art school with in Brooklyn, New York before World War II. [...]