“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Jane and I had expected him to finish his work soon, yet when the moment arrived we still felt a certain surprise, a certain nostalgic letdown: Something we’d counted upon as part of our weekly routine wouldn’t be there any more.

[...] “Wouldn’t it be hell if Fred shows up at our door again?” I asked. [...]

(“I wish he wouldn’t.”

(“We’ll call this eleven-a: Wouldn’t you say then that these sessions are Speaker training for Jane and me, raised to a conscious level?”)

[...] The crazy thing is that I spent my childhood in Bangor, Maine, and when we moved to New York State I wouldn’t give New York as my home. [...]

When Seth was done, for a minute, Jean wouldn’t say a thing. [...]

[...] I’d also like to say that in the future I wish she wouldn’t take my word for things concerning her own feelings and affairs so literally—that she be much more independent in this respect.

[...] However I wouldn’t say the itching was a less frightening symptom.)

([Theodore M:] “How far would the ego accept it and wouldn’t it be dangerous?”)

[...] Once again I thought it wouldn’t do for us. [...]

(Jane had declared before the session began tonight that she thought Seth would go into our house affairs in connection with probable realities, but that such material wouldn’t go with his book dictation on the families of consciousness. [...]

[...] Seth didn’t comment upon the shooting, It wasn’t that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t—but that Jane herself is basically so innocent, so repelled by the violence involved in such episodes, that she often chooses not to go into the subject. [...]

[...] Since she wouldn’t be working with that project for some little time now, Jane’s restless creative mind began to play with other ideas. [...]

[...] Jane, with that exquisite stubbornness she can display, simply wouldn’t cooperate in that fashion. [...]

[...] She said that dictation for it wouldn’t mean she was giving up on private material, or on her projected book on the magical approach, either.

(I believe that my own feeling was one of sadness that I wouldn’t be with her, more than anything else in the dream. [...]

[...] But she also knew the test was poor, something she wouldn’t have been able to distinguish not too long ago. [...]

[...] Also perhaps some difficulty about neighbors who wouldn’t keep up their own land.

[...] She had been all night, she said, otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten by the first fifteen minutes of the session because of her weariness. [...]

[...] Billie was dominant over her father, Jerry said; she was very insistent and wouldn’t back down in an argument.

(“I said that?” I didn’t remember doing so and I certainly wouldn’t say so today.)

[...] Actually I had several about the new painting, but my writing hand was so cramped I felt I wouldn’t be able to continue using it much longer.)

[...] I wouldn’t think Van Elver would know much about brand new varnishes—or would he?”)

[...] I wasn’t conscious of breathing any differently than usual, but if this was a subconscious production that wouldn’t make any difference. [...]

(Had we not found the May 10 letter we wouldn’t have thought of the connections immediately above; even as it is I would hesitate to claim them without further data from Seth. [...]