conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a title for a book about Pope, Francis, March with the genre: Christian Books & Bibles, Catholicism
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Pope Francis'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Pope Francis about History, Hamburg, Munich with the genre: Christian Books & Bibles, Catholicism.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author, born 1964 in Hamburg, studied in Munich Japanese, Modern History and Art History. After graduating, she went through a journalistic exchange program of the Konrad Adenauer Foundation in Tokyo, and then worked in the editorial departments of the Abendzeitung, the Bavarian Radio and the Bild newspaper. By 2002, she was an editor in Economic and Political Affairs at BUNTE. Today the author lives with her family in Cologne, works as a publishing manager and writes novels and nonfiction.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Today the author lives with her family in Cologne, works as a publishing manager and writes novels and nonfiction.. By 2002, she was an editor in Economic and Political Affairs at BUNTE. After graduating, she went through a journalistic exchange program of the Konrad Adenauer Foundation in Tokyo, and then worked in the editorial departments of the Abendzeitung, the Bavarian Radio and the Bild newspaper.the author, born 1964 in Hamburg, studied in Munich Japanese, Modern History and Art History
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.. Start with the sentence 'Pope Francis
  Mysteries engage our senses and our intellect'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Pope Francis
  Mysteries engage our senses and our intellect. They challenge us to solve a puzzle or pay attention to people, places, or situations we may normally overlook. That is why we can call the Blessed Virgin Mary and her prayer the Ave Maria grand mysteries, because both call us to pause, look, and listen to how we live our lives and how we respond to the often mystifying callings of God. Both Mary and the prayer that honors her stimulate us and bring new life to our hearts and our imagination in ways that challenge and deepen our faith.
  The Holy Spirit is in fact the one who ceaselessly, day and night, pours into our hearts the love of the Father (cf. Rm 5:5) and thus helps us to become more and more the children of God, true brothers and sisters among ourselves.
  In this way our vocation, the great gift that the Father has given to us, is that of allowing ourselves, even though we are poor, lowly, ordinary human beings, to resemble Christ, to participate in his life and his joy. Jesus is our big brother, the new man, the true man; and in him we too as children finally begin to resemble our Father and to resemble one another.
  The Church is thus the community of those who have been offered the possibility of being new men and women, clothed in the Spirit, men and women whose hearts resemble that of Christ: the complete gift of self and unconditional acceptance of every other person.
  Mary is in fact this masterpiece of the Father, the one who is "full of grace" (cf. Lk 1:28). In her we see the result of God's action, meaning she is the example of what happens to a human being who welcomes the Holy Spirit completely. The person becomes a splendor of goodness, of love, of beauty, one who is "blessed among women" (cf. Lk 1:42). The Lord Jesus, dying on the cross, gave us Mary as our Mother, precisely because she is his real Mother and he has really become our brother. So that in Mary, Mother of God, Mother of the Risen One, of all of us who rise again in him in baptism, we see the result of God's work in humanity. Mary is the masterpiece that the Lord seeks to realize and is realizing with his infinite patience in the Church, in every one of us and in the holy people of God in its entirety.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mothers are the most powerful antidote against our individualistic and selfish tendencies, against our isolation and indifference. A society without mothers would be not only a cold society but a society that has lost its heart, that has lost the "family feel." A society without mothers would be a society without pity, one that has left room only for calculation and speculation. Because mothers, even at the worst of times, know how to bear witness to tenderness, unconditional dedication, the power of hope. I have learned a lot from those mothers who, having children in prison or laid up in hospital beds or shackled by the slavery of drugs, come rain or shine, come what may, they do not give up and keep fighting to give their children the best they can. Or those mothers who, in the refugee camps or even in the midst of war, are able to embrace and bear without wavering the sufferings of their children. Mothers who literally give their lives so that none of their children may be lost. Wherever a mother is there is unity, there is belonging, the belonging of children.
  It is important. The angel does not say to Mary: "You are full of intellect, you are intelligent, you are full of virtue, you are an ultragood woman." No: "You are full of grace," meaning of that which is unmerited, of beauty. Our Lady is the one who is beautiful par excellence. Beauty is one of the human dimensions that too often we overlook. We talk about truth, about goodness, and we leave beauty out. And yet it is just as important as the others. It is important to find God in beauty.
  Mary was trodden upon, denigrated even during her lifetime. Think of the comments on Calvary: "Look at the criminal's mom, how she must have raised him..."
  Many times while riding the bus I passed the prison of Villa Devoto in Buenos Aires. There were all the moms lined up and everyone saw them, these women in line to get in, to visit a son. It is not hard to imagine the humiliations a woman must suffer, the pat downs. But it doesn't matter, it's for a son. They let themselves be trodden upon, what matters is the son. To Mary what was important was her Son. Not the comments of others. That was why she was on Calvary. But there even her Son abandons her, not only because he abandons life. He says to her, "Now you will have others," and gives us all a mom, who gives birth to us on the cross.
  Those people knew what they were saying. They were not only shouting; according to tradition, they were holding clubs. That was what the bishops would have expected if they did not proclaim Our Lady "Mother of God": a club...
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: There is only one remedy for shame: turning (back) to God. Appealing to his gaze of mercy: "Look to him and be radiant, and your faces may not blush for shame" (Ps 34:6). What kills is not sin: it is despair. Lucifer, the braggart, cannot stand it that evil can be forgiven.
  At night the prison is a voracious chasm: the television shows B movies, the cigarettes are lit and extinguished at lightning speed. Words in the background stammered and carried away by the wind, the commotion of one's own thoughts, the shrieking of the demons. Remorse, mistakes, emotions faded by nicotine. The heart tormented, the head adrift: "Imagine that time never passes, that everything is motionless, that everyone else is still. But you realize that outside everything is running at an insane speed. You can't run, you can barely walk." Any problem makes the formulas worthless: the failures beg sleep to swallow them alive. At sunrise, you can hear keys out in the hallway, doors opening and closing. A new day begins, another long night has ended: "I would like to go back to when I had a soul, to when I could not imagine that one day the filth of the world would envelop me, suffocate me."
  At first, after all, everything depends on us: "Ever since I came to this prison I have stopped wearing a wristwatch: I don't want to check the time anymore. Now I like to live it. The past, the present, the future: I don't know who I will be tomorrow, but I know well who I am today: I am a guy who doesn't forget who he was yesterday. And what he did yesterday."
  Pressed up against the window, the mother stares through the grille at a long row of cells forsaken by hope. I observe her from a distance, through the eyes of her son, who studies her from within that rabble of embraces: "I have a mom and a sister who love me to pieces; it is thanks to them that I have not yet lost the will to fight." Two women, with a lantern in hand. A patience that is loyal, stubborn: "In more than nine years they have never let me feel alone. They have traveled all over Italy for me, from north to south." No criminal will ever lie to himself: "It was my fault that they experienced shame, humiliation, sorrow. They have crossed over into inhuman realities like those of prison, criminal asylums, but they never stopped loving me. On the contrary, they loved me even more." Evil, for mothers, looks like the light of the winter sun: it goes away without a lot of struggle.
  Fr. Marco Pozza's interview with took place in the Sala Ducale of the Vatican Museums on July 19, 2018, for TV2000.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Appealing to his gaze of mercy: "Look to him and be radiant, and your faces may not blush for shame" (Ps 34:6). What kills is not sin: it is despair. Lucifer, the braggart, cannot stand it that evil can be forgiven.
  At night the prison is a voracious chasm: the television shows B movies, the cigarettes are lit and extinguished at lightning speed. Words in the background stammered and carried away by the wind, the commotion of one's own thoughts, the shrieking of the demons. Remorse, mistakes, emotions faded by nicotine. The heart tormented, the head adrift: "Imagine that time never passes, that everything is motionless, that everyone else is still. But you realize that outside everything is running at an insane speed. You can't run, you can barely walk." Any problem makes the formulas worthless: the failures beg sleep to swallow them alive. At sunrise, you can hear keys out in the hallway, doors opening and closing. A new day begins, another long night has ended: "I would like to go back to when I had a soul, to when I could not imagine that one day the filth of the world would envelop me, suffocate me."
  At first, after all, everything depends on us: "Ever since I came to this prison I have stopped wearing a wristwatch: I don't want to check the time anymore. Now I like to live it. The past, the present, the future: I don't know who I will be tomorrow, but I know well who I am today: I am a guy who doesn't forget who he was yesterday. And what he did yesterday."
  Pressed up against the window, the mother stares through the grille at a long row of cells forsaken by hope. I observe her from a distance, through the eyes of her son, who studies her from within that rabble of embraces: "I have a mom and a sister who love me to pieces; it is thanks to them that I have not yet lost the will to fight." Two women, with a lantern in hand. A patience that is loyal, stubborn: "In more than nine years they have never let me feel alone. They have traveled all over Italy for me, from north to south." No criminal will ever lie to himself: "It was my fault that they experienced shame, humiliation, sorrow. They have crossed over into inhuman realities like those of prison, criminal asylums, but they never stopped loving me. On the contrary, they loved me even more." Evil, for mothers, looks like the light of the winter sun: it goes away without a lot of struggle.
  Fr. Marco Pozza's interview with took place in the Sala Ducale of the Vatican Museums on July 19, 2018, for TV2000.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Pope Francis
  Title: God is young : a conversation with Thomas Leoncini / ; translated from the Italian by Anne Milano Appel.
  Subjects: LCSH: Francis, Pope, 1936—Interviews. | Catholic Church—Doctrines—Miscellanea. | God (Christianity)—Miscellanea. | Catholic youth—Miscellanea. That their best attributes are His. A God who is not only Father—and Mother, as John Paul I earlier indicated—but also Son, and for that reason Brother. Francis was claiming a central place for these castoffs. He was delivering them from the margins and characterizing them as the protagonists of the present and of the future. Of a common history.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about affirming, troubled.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Pope Francis
  Title: God is young : a conversation with Thomas Leoncini / ; translated from the Italian by Anne Milano Appel. 
  Subjects: LCSH: Francis, Pope, 1936—Interviews. | Catholic Church—Doctrines—Miscellanea. | God (Christianity)—Miscellanea. | Catholic youth—Miscellanea. 
  With those memorable words, the pontiff was affirming that young people, or rather the great castoffs of our troubled times, are actually made "in the same mold" as God. That their best attributes are His. A God who is not only Father—and Mother, as John Paul I earlier indicated—but also Son, and for that reason Brother. Francis was claiming a central place for these castoffs. He was delivering them from the margins and characterizing them as the protagonists of the present and of the future. Of a common history.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me another paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Francis has devoted much of his precious time to this project, and I have been merely the intermediary that the Pope chose to deliver his message, unfiltered, to young people throughout the world.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Francis has devoted much of his precious time to this project, and I have been merely the intermediary that the Pope chose to deliver his message, unfiltered, to young people throughout the world.
  Young people are not the only castoffs of this consumer society; many adults are marginalized as well, especially the elderly, cut off by market-based logic and power principles.
  It is necessary to find strength and determination, the pontiff says, but also tenderness, to create a bridge between young and old each and every day: Only by embracing the young and old can society truly be renewed, for the benefit of all who have been left behind and toward whom our gazes must constantly be directed.
  JORGE MARIO BERGOGLIO was born in Buenos Aires on December 17, 1936. On March 13, 2013, he became the Bishop of Rome and the 266th Pope of the Catholic Church.
  ANNE MILANO APPEL has translated works by Claudio Magris, Paolo Giordano, Paolo Maurensig, Giuseppe Catozzella, Primo Levi, Roberto Saviano, and many others. Her awards include the Italian Prose in Translation Award (2015), the John Florio Prize for Italian translation (2013), and the Northern California Book Award for Translation (2014 and 2013).
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Pope Francis
  I left the prison in Padua with just a handful of words, those of the Pater. The hell of the penitentiary is our territory on the edge of despair; the smile of is our consolation. When the train slows down, the Eternal City welcomes me with a piece of graffiti scrawled on a viaduct wall, "Without the foundation, forget about the heights."
  On August 4, 2017, I interviewed for a television broadcast on the Our Father. When the elevator opens at Santa Marta, the pope is already there. No joy gladdens the heart more than seeing that someone has been there waiting. "Sit down here," the pope says. "Take off your jacket, it's hot today."
  I tell him about myself, about the prisoners I minister to: Enrico, Marzio, the burglars and thieves. Into that oculus of Santa Marta I bring him the silent emotion, the affection, the smiles and laughter of my jailhouse cast of characters. I spill out for him, like a son to his father, my whole story. He, with a placid expression, follows along and encourages me: "There is no greater grace than shame for one's sins, Father Marco."
  On the pope's table are some of my letters to him. I see that he has been making notes on them, and I silently rejoice at how the words of an ordinary priest can stand side by side with the prophetic markings of a pope.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: At the end of the interview, handed me a gift. "Take this home with you. Pray with it when you are troubled." It is a plaster figurine of a sleeping Saint Joseph. This is his favorite image of the carpenter who, alone of all people, can boast that he had God as his shop boy. That he was father to Christ.
  A prison chaplain. The mendicant pope. Joseph asleep. The next morning God would haul me back to prison. I would go in armed with words. A handful of private messages to share: Franciscan words, disclosures of the pope, of Papa.
  The worst, for men, is a crime that is not found anywhere in the statutes: misappropriation of paternity. "Nothing hurts worse than having made my son an orphan, stripping away his right to grow up with his father," Enrico tells me. "When he was born I was already in jail. I have seen my son grow up from the visiting rooms of the prisons. He has done a whole triathlon in the prisons: first, he crawled, then he walked, finally he ran. One day he ran so fast in the prison that he got away. He hasn't been able to come see me since."
  Enrico keeps his eyes wide open. He sees everything clearly. He is a soul in pain looking out over hell. "When I call my son, I'm shaking. I already know what he is going to ask me: 'Daddy, when are you coming home?' Receiving my sentence did not bother me, but that question from my son is like the blade of a guillotine and I wait for it to fall through many sleepless nights. Never as a thief did I shed any blood, but I have stolen my child's daddy away. I robbed myself of my own son."
  He continues: "Do you want a brief summary of my life? It is easy. I smeared the good name of my father. My father was a good soul, an honest farmer in the Venetian countryside. As for me, by the age of sixteen I had already found a way to make a name for myself: banks, jewelry stores, post offices, arrest, and prison. The first time I came back, he said to me, 'The door is open if you follow the rules.' One year later, in jail again. He closed the door. For good."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: At the end of the interview, handed me a gift. "Take this home with you. Pray with it when you are troubled." It is a plaster figurine of a sleeping Saint Joseph. This is his favorite image of the carpenter who, alone of all people, can boast that he had God as his shop boy. That he was father to Christ.
  A prison chaplain. The mendicant pope. Joseph asleep. The next morning God would haul me back to prison. I would go in armed with words. A handful of private messages to share: Franciscan words, disclosures of the pope, of Papa.
  The worst, for men, is a crime that is not found anywhere in the statutes: misappropriation of paternity. "Nothing hurts worse than having made my son an orphan, stripping away his right to grow up with his father," Enrico tells me. "When he was born I was already in jail. I have seen my son grow up from the visiting rooms of the prisons. He has done a whole triathlon in the prisons: first, he crawled, then he walked, finally he ran. One day he ran so fast in the prison that he got away. He hasn't been able to come see me since."
  Enrico keeps his eyes wide open. He sees everything clearly. He is a soul in pain looking out over hell. "When I call my son, I'm shaking. I already know what he is going to ask me: 'Daddy, when are you coming home?' Receiving my sentence did not bother me, but that question from my son is like the blade of a guillotine and I wait for it to fall through many sleepless nights. Never as a thief did I shed any blood, but I have stolen my child's daddy away. I robbed myself of my own son."
  He continues: "Do you want a brief summary of my life? It is easy. I smeared the good name of my father. My father was a good soul, an honest farmer in the Venetian countryside. As for me, by the age of sixteen I had already found a way to make a name for myself: banks, jewelry stores, post offices, arrest, and prison. The first time I came back, he said to me, 'The door is open if you follow the rules.' One year later, in jail again. He closed the door. For good.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: To Mass! "As many times as that Bread looked at me, I looked at it. It literally saved me from despair, from feeling that I was damned. I thought we were at the end of the line in there. Now I understand that I was on the launch pad." In prison, every fifteen minutes equals years of aging. Heaven, when the fruit is ripe, endures the wait: "Today you will be with me in Paradise" (Lk 23:43). Today is the completion of the present moment.
  Marzio has more than two thousand prison nights in his memory. "At first it seemed that I was being suffocated, that the crater of cement swallowed me up. It is a receptacle of evil, a bottomless pit. Temptation is seductive. It reassures. I had ended up in the land of temptations; the most deadly was that of no longer being able to value life. To give up, to drift, be lazy, do nothing, be a slugabed." Temptation is a drunkard two steps from the abyss. When it collapses, heaven ridicules it. "O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?" (1 Cor 15:55). Paul's words are also those of Marzio: "My best temptation has been the temptation to change. Evil has tried to take my life. It has been a temptation. Now I admit that. When one is in hell, the most gigantic temptation is to merit heaven." The vagabond has returned to his town. "After getting out of prison, to the world I am still the crime I committed; I have not yet become a person again. Amen! I will try not to lose sight of God's priorities." When the outrage is gone, God will think of the outcast.
  It is a game played with joy, the kind of joy that makes Enrico burst out laughing like a mischievous child. "Deliver me from evil? Look at what a trick he has played on me. I, a thief, would never have thought that the day would come when they would cheat me like this, with a door thrown wide open. Why so much love for an old bandit like me? Now so many things have changed, delivered from evil, why would I care about being one of the bad guys?" Enrico is on the getaway.
  I think of Marzio, a few kilometers away. I imagine Enrico making dinner for his priests. I think of the Pater Noster.
  We have discovered unknown interior spaces, which are still waiting to be explored. Poor Christs have made a comeback: they act as sentinels of mercy.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: To Mass! "As many times as that Bread looked at me, I looked at it. It literally saved me from despair, from feeling that I was damned. I thought we were at the end of the line in there. Now I understand that I was on the launch pad." In prison, every fifteen minutes equals years of aging. Heaven, when the fruit is ripe, endures the wait: "Today you will be with me in Paradise" (Lk 23:43). Today is the completion of the present moment.
  Marzio has more than two thousand prison nights in his memory. "At first it seemed that I was being suffocated, that the crater of cement swallowed me up. It is a receptacle of evil, a bottomless pit. Temptation is seductive. It reassures. I had ended up in the land of temptations; the most deadly was that of no longer being able to value life. To give up, to drift, be lazy, do nothing, be a slugabed." Temptation is a drunkard two steps from the abyss. When it collapses, heaven ridicules it. "O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?" (1 Cor 15:55). Paul's words are also those of Marzio: "My best temptation has been the temptation to change. Evil has tried to take my life. It has been a temptation. Now I admit that. When one is in hell, the most gigantic temptation is to merit heaven." The vagabond has returned to his town. "After getting out of prison, to the world I am still the crime I committed; I have not yet become a person again. Amen! I will try not to lose sight of God's priorities." When the outrage is gone, God will think of the outcast.
  It is a game played with joy, the kind of joy that makes Enrico burst out laughing like a mischievous child. "Deliver me from evil? Look at what a trick he has played on me. I, a thief, would never have thought that the day would come when they would cheat me like this, with a door thrown wide open. Why so much love for an old bandit like me? Now so many things have changed, delivered from evil, why would I care about being one of the bad guys?" Enrico is on the getaway.
  I think of Marzio, a few kilometers away. I imagine Enrico making dinner for his priests. I think of the Pater Noster.
  We have discovered unknown interior spaces, which are still waiting to be explored.