“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Philip on the other hand is performing no such compensations, except for the one instance of choosing a good-looking wife and therefore permitting himself to treat her kindly.

[...] Neither Jane or I have met his wife.)

[...] I doubt if my wife thought the comparison was humorous.

[...] Margaret, Joe’s wife, wasn’t in the dream. [...]

[...] Sometimes he is not even aware of them as far as they involve the expression of affection or love to his wife. [...]

He never forgave his own children for growing up, nor did he forgive his wife for tending to earthly ways. [...]

[...] You were quite vain yourself, and as a woman you certainly put your present wife to shame as far as vanity is concerned.

If ever your wife’s features change imperceptibly some night as we talk, I suggest you do not mention it till the end of the session. [...]

[...] A female relative I believe, perhaps an aunt of yours or of your wife’s. A name perhaps like Evelyn, in connection with a trip, and a rather unfortunate circumstance.

(John’s wife’s sister is named Evelyn, and so would be the aunt of John’s children. [...]

[...] In the overall your wife will be of more benefit to you than you suppose.

[...] Your wife will feel insecure only when she feels that your own confidence is threatened. [...]

[...] We ended up in a rather acrimonious conversation in which I hoped I’d alienated him enough so he’d not bother my wife or me.

[...] But this is quite an advancement for my wife. [...]

(I didn’t ask my wife who the eight dollars were for. [...]

[...] Yet he still expressed sorrow, and asked: “Why?” He’s troubled by the challenges of one who has to live with a so-called deformed wife—and now a child—each day. [...]

[...] After the husband’s death the second wife went to California to live with her stepson and his family. [...]

By then, my wife was almost always uncomfortable to some degree, and sometimes in outright pain. [...]

[...] I grieved to see my wife in such distress, but ultimately could do little beyond helping her get as comfortable as possible. [...]

[...] Are you doing a book within a book, or what?” My wife didn’t answer yes or no, but I could see that she was pleased, and that she was thinking about it. [...]

[...] After introducing him to my wife, I went back to my writing room. [...]

[...] We’ve known Georgia, Jane’s favorite nurse, ever since my wife entered the hospital in April, 1983.

[...] Very briefly, it concerns the behavior of a local psychiatrist and his wife—one of those continuing affairs that have been well known locally for some time, yet never getting into the newspaper.

(The specific affair Peg described that evening concerned the arrest of the doctor’s wife on a drunken driving charge, speeding, etc.

[...] The phone call may have to do with his wife. [...]

[...] There is a brief disagreement between his wife and himself. [...]

[...] Watching my wife over the years, I’d long ago come to feel that I was observing someone who was following a chosen course with incredible ability and determination. [...]

[...] Seeing it cheered Jane—yet my wife continued to hassle [as she put it] her efforts on Magical Approach, asking herself again and again whether she really wanted to do that book. [...]

[...] I was left caught as we talked after I’d read her poem: suspended between despair for my wife and the hope that she would choose to go on living, in our terms.

[...] reinforces our activities in larger realms of consciousness, as well as in our “present” joint reality, in which my wife is now chair-bound.

[...] It seems he and his wife are buying a larger cottage close by their old one, which they plan to rent. [...]

(His wife was drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen. [...]

[...] My wife did her own wrapping, though, working at it in her writing room after warning me to stay away until she was through. [...]

[...] Even the fact that by January 26 my wife hadn’t walked with her typing table for ten weeks played its part. [...]

[...] Indeed, I now think that my wife is a better painter in her way than I am in mine. [...]

[...] of course, my feelings reflected upon the workings of my sinful self, or upon some similar psychological quality—for how could I be so involved with my wife’s challenges, for almost 26 years, without complementing them within deep portions of my own personality? [...]