“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

He is sitting inside looking out at the clean windows he has just washed from the outside. [...]

[...] There was salt in the ocean, that’s why they washed in the ocean. [...]

I gently put down the dish I was washing. [...]

[...] (While we were in Sayre; Jane was doing the washing; mother was cooking dinner, etc.) He remembered you and the pendulum, and having none there instead allowed submerged feelings up. [...]

[...] It had been destroyed; several of its spans had been washed out.

[...] In the first column Peggy Gallagher calls the painting done “In washed out shades of gray and orange.” [...]

[...] I sat in silence for several minutes because I didn’t know what to do; I seemed to be neutralized by the conflicting feelings washing over me. [...]

[...] The wave of feeling washed over me very strongly this time. [...]

[...] She was standing at the sink washing dishes and looking out at the ‘dreary’ flat landscape and at their pickup truck parked there. [...]

One man bent to wash his hands in it
And saw
The skin peel off like dirt,
But the lawn was full
With the falling corpses of the birds,
And when he cried out, no one heard.

[...] That evening when we did the wash the jacket was included in the load. [...]

[...] The first time quite strongly appeared when I suggested to myself that I felt light; then it washed over me, and at the same time my arms particularly felt very light, almost weightless.

[...] As it happened our washing had been hung in the basement the day before because of rain.

[...] It was in black ‘line’, but also with flat washes of color. [...]

[...] The features do not remind me of anyone I know, although there is a resemblance between them and a black and white ink- and-wash drawing I have for sale at the gallery where Jane is employed afternoons. [...]

[...] The observer is washed over by intensities. [...]

[...] There was salt in the ocean — that’s why they washed there. [...]

The guilt no cloth can ever wash.

[...] Then I went out to the kitchen to wash a pan that I’d left soaking in the sink. [...]

[...] The wave of feeling washed over me very strongly. [...]