“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

At one time there were also species of birds, however, with high intelligence — this before the period mentioned earlier.² They were not humanoid; not, for example, people with wings. [...]

[...] I saw a large black winged ant crawling on the back of Jane’s rocker, close to her head. [...]

[...] These wait in the wings, so to speak, for physical actualization. [...]

[...] You are not stuck in time like a fly in a closed bottle, whose wings are therefore useless. [...]

[...] I will fly away without flapping my wings, for I am a wise old bird.

[...] Some, resting between productions, as it were, try to communicate with those who are still taking part; but they themselves are merely in the wings, so to speak, and can only see so far.

[...] Then my shoulders and the whole top area of my back began to turn into a great eagle, wings flapping; the surging power and alien sensations were astounding….

[...] It kept Ruburt in strong protection under its wing, and if it was overly stubborn, it was so because it always recognized Ruburt’s intuitive abilities, and the full strength of Ruburt’s sense of commitment, once given.

[...] But what good were the developing stages of a wing, I wondered, and how many uncounted generations of reptiles-turning-into-birds had to carry those appendages, before a fully-formed bird was finally hatched that could fly? [...]

[...] Follow those thoughts and as you read the material in the same way let your imagination take wing. [...]

[...] If you rip off the wing of a fly, you are yourself less. [...]

[...] The rain didn’t bother the birds at all: a pair of cardinals, several red-winged blackbirds, some phoebes, various warblers, and a group of mourning doves. [...]

[...] Often you are trying your psychic wings, so to speak, when you do not realize it. [...]

[...] I am indeed as peaceful as a tired old dove with battered wings, and a beak smoothed down. [...]

[...] When it became apparent that most of the audience had dutifully gone under—sitting there and reminding me somehow of pigeons with wings neatly folded—I looked up cautiously to see what Dr. Instream was doing. [...]

(To Gert.) Over here, we are letting St. Lucia use her own wings and encouraging her not to rely on dogma and therefore we have given you none. [...]

[...] “As the seed falls, blown by the wind in any environment, so there’s a seed of personality that rides on the wings of itself and falls into the worlds of many times and places. [...]

[...] A captain took you under his wing. [...]

[...] Her arms lifted like wings, her hair was very pretty. [...]

[...] Had I decided to try my own wings to see what evidence for survival I could get on my own?