conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled The Killer Within about div>the, Africa, States with the genre: Christian Books & Bibles, Ministry & Evangelism
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: <div>the author is a long-time missionary in Africa, and is now back in the States and serves as the minister to the San Antonio Church of Christ. He is also the author of The Lion Never Sleeps: Preparing Those You Love for Satan's Attacks.</DIV>
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled The Killer Within about Killer, Within, span>I with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: <span>I have published two novels, "The Killer Within" and "The Segmented Tail". The Killer Within was a medical mystery thriller. I enjoyed writing both books and hope that the readers will enjoy them as much as I did writing them. Sincerely, the author</span>
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first three paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Killer Within
  Some two years ago, Chuck retired his patch and quit the Hell's Angels. They're still very tight and if there is a problem, he can readily call upon them. People do not realize how really bonded the Hell's Angels are and just how many of them there are. There are chapters all over the United States and Europe as well as several in Japan. Of all these thousands of badass men who reject society's mandates and protocols, Chuck Zito is thought of as a superstar. One, because he's so physically tough, and, two, because he was blindly dedicated to the club. Some years ago, he got arrested in an FBI sweep and was accused of selling an ounce of amphetamines. This was a bald-faced lie, something he never did. Chuck doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, and he's never used drugs in his life. But suffice it to say, he ended up getting railroaded and he did five years in federal prison. This further bolstered his reputation as a stand-up guy within the club because he never told the truth about who really had the drugs. The Angels all knew it, and they rallied behind him. If I ever have a problem, Chuck is probably the first person I would call. He and I are close. The Mafia even respect the Angels. They know that the Angels are absolutely stand-up; they know that no Hell's Angel has ever testified against another Angel. The Mafia cannot say that about themselves.
  This is reassuring, but still, I know for sure there are a lot of people in this world not playing with a full deck, who will not listen to reason. Pitera is one of those people. He could very well know a maverick psychopath and, from jail, ask him to come look me up. With Chuck's intervention, however, I feel... insulated.
  De Niro wanted Locanda Verde to have the look of an old-fashioned Italian villa and he has managed to achieve that. On the night of the party, I arrive at seven o'clock and the place is already crowded. With my friend Mike's help, following Kelsey and Laura, I slowly roll through the crowd and into the back room. Already the bar has been set up and my sister-in-law, Karen, is there giving everybody orders—something she's adept at. Karen has a brilliant sense of space as a decorator and I know with her here, it will work. The problem with Karen is that everything has to be her way or the highway. You can't have an opinion but, still, she knows what she's doing, and we all stay out of her way. It's funny how when I arrive there are only a couple of people in this big room with a wooden floor and only a few tables; I feel like I am in some kind of dance hall in which everybody will be dancing but me.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: three more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She thinks this a good plan, though I think she knows that what I'm trying to do is stall the trip. I still want more proof that it works. This is creating an unspoken tension between Laura and me—my vacillating.
  Every day the weather gets a little colder. Every day more leaves fall from the trees and carpet the yard. Some days, it's so cold I don't go outside at all. One of the effects of the cold is that my hands stiffen into claws and it's hard for me to work the joystick on my wheelchair; the other day, I drove it into a garbage can. To hell with New York and its freezing weather and gray skies. I loathe gray skies. At the prospect of going back to South Beach, I am as excited as a boy on the last day of school. I've never liked winters in New York—all the clothes you have to wear, the barren trees, icy winds—and since I've gotten sick, I've become deathly afraid of getting a cold, which could readily turn into pneumonia—serious respiratory problems. As I watch Laura pack, I think of myself on the beach with the smell of the ocean and the warm sun soothing what muscles I have left, my aching joints. I can readily see palm trees basking in the sunlight; I see them being beaten and battered by strong winds and stormy weather, the large leaves whipping.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about South, Beach.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She thinks this a good plan, though I think she knows that what I'm trying to do is stall the trip. I still want more proof that it works. This is creating an unspoken tension between Laura and me—my vacillating. 
  Every day the weather gets a little colder. Every day more leaves fall from the trees and carpet the yard. Some days, it's so cold I don't go outside at all. One of the effects of the cold is that my hands stiffen into claws and it's hard for me to work the joystick on my wheelchair; the other day, I drove it into a garbage can. 
  It is time to return to South Beach. To hell with New York and its freezing weather and gray skies. I loathe gray skies. At the prospect of going back to South Beach, I am as excited as a boy on the last day of school. I've never liked winters in New York—all the clothes you have to wear, the barren trees, icy winds—and since I've gotten sick, I've become deathly afraid of getting a cold, which could readily turn into pneumonia—serious respiratory problems. As I watch Laura pack, I think of myself on the beach with the smell of the ocean and the warm sun soothing what muscles I have left, my aching joints. I can readily see palm trees basking in the sunlight; I see them being beaten and battered by strong winds and stormy weather, the large leaves whipping.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A headshot of Carlo during the summer of 2005 in Mykonos, Greece. At this point, Carlo has a slight limp he is attributing to jogging too much.
  Carlo working with his assistant, Kelsey, in his garden apartment, New York City, circa 2007. Though Carlo can still walk, he needs a cane to do so. Note the muscle loss caused by ALS.
  Carlo with dear friend, actor Tony Danza, and from left clockwise: Karen Scala, Katie Danza, Tracy Danza, and Laura Carlo.
  Philip Carlo and Kelsey working hard at "the office." Note the breathing tube in Carlo's lap. The bandage on his chest is where the diaphragm pacer is connected.
  Here Carlo is celebrating Easter al fresco in South Beach, Miami. The beat must go on. Clockwise from right: Karen Scala, Laura Carlo, Philip Carlo, Edward Scala, and Tatum Garofalo.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Clockwise from right: Karen Scala, Laura Carlo, Philip Carlo, Edward Scala, and Tatum Garofalo.. The beat must go on.
  Here Carlo is celebrating Easter al fresco in South Beach, Miami. The bandage on his chest is where the diaphragm pacer is connected." Note the breathing tube in Carlo's lap.
  Philip Carlo and Kelsey working hard at "the office.
  Carlo with dear friend, actor Tony Danza, and from left clockwise: Karen Scala, Katie Danza, Tracy Danza, and Laura Carlo. Note the muscle loss caused by ALS. Though Carlo can still walk, he needs a cane to do so.
  Carlo working with his assistant, Kelsey, in his garden apartment, New York City, circa 2007. At this point, Carlo has a slight limp he is attributing to jogging too much.A headshot of Carlo during the summer of 2005 in Mykonos, Greece