conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The Return of the Ragpicker about Greatest, Miracle, Simon with the genre: Religion & Spirituality, Worship & Devotion.. End with the sentence ' <BR>Copyright 1992 Reed Business Information, Inc.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In the first of his bestsellers, The Greatest Miracle in the World (1975), the author wrote about the mystic and inspiring figure of Simon Potter the Ragpicker, who rescued drunks and others from life's dumping grounds with the help of a credo he called God's Memorandum. Here he reappears, bringing a new set of principles--basically the Golden Rule plus added strictures against destroying the earth, humanity's only home. Fans of the author's earlier self-help guides will find all they seek here, and will presumably overlook the elaborately melodramatic close and contrived narrative device. Others may balk at Simon's lengthy recitation of the author's numerous achievements: million-plus story sales, awards, crowded lectures, guest spots on national TV, etc. All impressive and true, but focused on the author instead of the message. <BR>Copyright 1992 Reed Business Information, Inc.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Return of the Ragpicker
  The old man grinned as if he already knew and was just teasing me again. He sighed and pointed toward the mass of papers on his desk. "I have spent the better part of a year at this desk, and my respect for your profession is greater than ever. Last week I reviewed my notes and I believe I have just about covered all the necessary principles, and they are not many, that one must follow in order to alter the course of one's life for the better. I am convinced, Mister Og, that you have come to this tiny village for a reason, perhaps many reasons, even if you know not what they are. One of them, I hope, is to lend me your hand. Perhaps you might recall that a lady named Shirley Anne Briggs, also a fine writer herself, wrote you a letter several years ago where she stated that there is a land of despair and a land of faith... and the bridge between the two is hope. She then went on to tell you, my friend, that you are in the manufacturing business. The hope business. You give people who are in despair the link of hope with which to reach faith, and you do this with one of the most powerful tools God has given us, the gift of writing."
  Although I've averaged more than a hundred letters a week for several years, I did recall that touching letter. How Simon knew about it I didn't even bother to ask.
  It became very still inside the cabin. I didn't know what to say, but I finally asked, "Do you have a name for this life-changing treasure you and I are going to produce?"
  Before I could reply there was a loud thump, just above our heads, followed by something that sounded like an empty pop can rolling down the cabin's pitched roof until we heard it land on the crushed gravel that surrounded the front door. Simon continued to lean casually against his old desk, but he raised both arms to assure me that he knew exactly what was happening outside.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'I put my arm around his waist'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I put my arm around his waist. "I'm willing, if you are. Come into my house, dear friend. I'm sorry that Bette is not home...."
  I smiled, thinking to myself that he already knew so much about me it was a good probability that he also had a good idea of my net worth.
  Simon leaned toward me and kissed my forehead, saying softly, "I know, Mister Og. You have learned the secret of happiness that wise men have been proclaiming since the beginning of time. Henry Drummond wrote that there is no happiness in having or in getting, only in giving; Seneca told us that he who does good to another does good also to himself, not only in the consequence but in the very act; and I believe it was Emerson who reminded all of us that the greatest gift we could give another was not gold or silver or diamonds but the gift of ourselves. There's that definition of altruism again, Mister Og... that unselfish devotion to the welfare of others. And have you noticed how much good flows back to you as you continue in your mission of aiding others?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The huge bird nodded his head several times as if he were acknowledging my greeting before he opened his beak and a small object rolled noisily down the pitched roof and landed in the grass at our feet.
  I plucked the object from the grass and held it gently in the palms of my hands. "Simon's corncob pipe! Franklin has brought me Simon's corncob pipe! Dear God, something has happened to the old man!"
  By the time my wife arrived at the old pound, she found me sitting on the granite boulders, holding the lifeless body of my beloved friend.
  Later... many days later... Bette told me that I had been sobbing uncontrollably as I rocked Simon's old body gently in my arms and all she could hear me crying, over and over, was one word, "Mizpah... Mizpah... Mizpah..."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "... Mizpah... Mizpah... Bette told me that I had been sobbing uncontrollably as I rocked Simon's old body gently in my arms and all she could hear me crying, over and over, was one word, "Mizpah... many days later...
  Later. "Simon's corncob pipe! Franklin has brought me Simon's corncob pipe! Dear God, something has happened to the old man!"
  By the time my wife arrived at the old pound, she found me sitting on the granite boulders, holding the lifeless body of my beloved friend.
  I plucked the object from the grass and held it gently in the palms of my hands.The huge bird nodded his head several times as if he were acknowledging my greeting before he opened his beak and a small object rolled noisily down the pitched roof and landed in the grass at our feet