conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a plot for a book about Karen, Africa, Denys entitled Out of Africa.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Out of Africa (film): The story begins in 1913 in Denmark, when Karen Dinesen (a wealthy but unmarried woman) asks her friend Baron Bror Blixen (Klaus Maria Brandauer) to enter into a marriage of convenience with her.\nAlthough Bror is a member of the aristocracy, he is no longer financially secure; therefore, he agrees to the marriage, and the two of them plan to move to Africa to begin a dairy farm.\nUpon moving to British East Africa, Karen marries Bror in a brief ceremony, thus becoming Baroness Blixen.\nShe meets and befriends various other colonial residents of the country, most of whom are British.\nShe also meets Denys Finch Hatton (Robert Redford), a local big-game hunter with whom she develops a close friendship.\nHowever, things turn out differently from her expectations, since Bror has used her money to purchase a coffee plantation rather than a dairy farm.\nHe also shows little inclination to put any real work into it, preferring instead to become a game hunter.\nAlthough theirs was a marriage of convenience, Karen does eventually develop feelings for Bror, but she is distressed when she learns of his extramarital affairs.\nTo make matters worse, Karen contracts syphilis from her philandering husband (at the time, cures were uncertain) and is forced to return to Denmark for a long and difficult period of treatment using the then-new medicine Salvarsan.\nBror agrees to look after the plantation in her absence.\nAfter she has recovered and returns to Africa, the First World War is drawing to an end.\nHowever, it becomes clear that her marriage to the womanizing Bror has not changed, and she eventually asks him to move out of their house.\nNo longer able to have children of her own due to the effects of the syphilis, she decides to open a school to teach reading, writing, arithmetic, and also some European customs to the African tribal children of the area.\nHowever, her coffee plantation runs into financial difficulties, and she is forced to rely on bank loans to make ends meet.\nHer friendship with Denys Finch Hatton develops further.\nDespite her expectation and desire to have what begins as an affair turn into a lasting relationship, Karen realizes that Denys is as impossible to domesticate as the wild animals he hunts and often refers to.\nAlthough he moves into Karen\'s house, he criticizes her desire to "own" things; this implies even people.\nHe refuses to commit to marriage or give up his free lifestyle and tells her that he will not love her more just because of a "piece of paper".\nKaren grudgingly continues in the relationship, knowing it will not ever be official.\nHe decides to invite Felicity, a female mutual acquaintance on one of his safaris, which exceeds Karen\'s ability to tolerate his justifications for his lifestyle and behavior.\nKaren asks him to accede to her request to not take her along, and he refuses.\nShe asks him to move out.\nThe plantation finally yields a good harvest at long last, but a devastating fire breaks out in the processing shed, and the crops and all of the factory equipment are destroyed.\nNow financially broke, and her relationship with Denys over, Karen prepares to leave Africa to return home to Denmark, just as British East Africa is becoming Kenya Colony.\nShe arranges to sell everything that she owns and empties the house of all her luxurious items for a rummage sale.\nIn the now empty house, Denys visits her that night, and the two of them enjoy a drink and a dance.\nHe asks her if he might escort her to Mombasa in his biplane to begin her journey home.\nShe agrees and he promises to return after a few days.\nHowever, Denys never returns, and Karen is told that his plane has crashed and that he has been killed.\nHer loss now complete, Karen attends his funeral in the Ngong Hills.\nWith Denys gone, Karen\'s head servant, Farah, takes her to the station, for the train to Mombasa.\nKaren later became an author and a storyteller, writing about her experiences and letters in Africa, though she never returned there.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: \nKaren later became an author and a storyteller, writing about her experiences and letters in Africa, though she never returned there..\nWith Denys gone, Karen\'s head servant, Farah, takes her to the station, for the train to Mombasa.\nHer loss now complete, Karen attends his funeral in the Ngong Hills.\nHowever, Denys never returns, and Karen is told that his plane has crashed and that he has been killed.\nShe agrees and he promises to return after a few days.\nHe asks her if he might escort her to Mombasa in his biplane to begin her journey home.\nIn the now empty house, Denys visits her that night, and the two of them enjoy a drink and a dance.\nShe arranges to sell everything that she owns and empties the house of all her luxurious items for a rummage sale.\nNow financially broke, and her relationship with Denys over, Karen prepares to leave Africa to return home to Denmark, just as British East Africa is becoming Kenya Colony.\nThe plantation finally yields a good harvest at long last, but a devastating fire breaks out in the processing shed, and the crops and all of the factory equipment are destroyed.\nShe asks him to move out.\nKaren asks him to accede to her request to not take her along, and he refuses.\nHe decides to invite Felicity, a female mutual acquaintance on one of his safaris, which exceeds Karen\'s ability to tolerate his justifications for his lifestyle and behavior.\nKaren grudgingly continues in the relationship, knowing it will not ever be official.\nHe refuses to commit to marriage or give up his free lifestyle and tells her that he will not love her more just because of a "piece of paper".\nAlthough he moves into Karen\'s house, he criticizes her desire to "own" things; this implies even people.\nDespite her expectation and desire to have what begins as an affair turn into a lasting relationship, Karen realizes that Denys is as impossible to domesticate as the wild animals he hunts and often refers to.\nHer friendship with Denys Finch Hatton develops further.\nHowever, her coffee plantation runs into financial difficulties, and she is forced to rely on bank loans to make ends meet.\nNo longer able to have children of her own due to the effects of the syphilis, she decides to open a school to teach reading, writing, arithmetic, and also some European customs to the African tribal children of the area.\nHowever, it becomes clear that her marriage to the womanizing Bror has not changed, and she eventually asks him to move out of their house.\nAfter she has recovered and returns to Africa, the First World War is drawing to an end.\nBror agrees to look after the plantation in her absence.\nTo make matters worse, Karen contracts syphilis from her philandering husband (at the time, cures were uncertain) and is forced to return to Denmark for a long and difficult period of treatment using the then-new medicine Salvarsan.\nAlthough theirs was a marriage of convenience, Karen does eventually develop feelings for Bror, but she is distressed when she learns of his extramarital affairs.\nHe also shows little inclination to put any real work into it, preferring instead to become a game hunter.\nHowever, things turn out differently from her expectations, since Bror has used her money to purchase a coffee plantation rather than a dairy farm.\nShe also meets Denys Finch Hatton (Robert Redford), a local big-game hunter with whom she develops a close friendship.\nShe meets and befriends various other colonial residents of the country, most of whom are British.\nUpon moving to British East Africa, Karen marries Bror in a brief ceremony, thus becoming Baroness Blixen.\nAlthough Bror is a member of the aristocracy, he is no longer financially secure; therefore, he agrees to the marriage, and the two of them plan to move to Africa to begin a dairy farm.Out of Africa (film): The story begins in 1913 in Denmark, when Karen Dinesen (a wealthy but unmarried woman) asks her friend Baron Bror Blixen (Klaus Maria Brandauer) to enter into a marriage of convenience with her
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first two paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Out of Africa
  Still, we often talked on the farm of the Safaris that we had been on. Camping-places fix themselves in your mind as if you had spent long periods of your life in them. You will remember a curve of your waggon track in the grass of the plain, like the features of a friend.
  Out on the Safaris, I had seen a herd of Buffalo, one hundred and twenty-nine of them, come out of the morning mist under a copper sky, one by one, as if the dark and massive, iron-like animals with the mighty horizontally swung horns were not approaching, but were being created before my eyes and sent out as they were finished. I had seen a herd of Elephant travelling through dense Native forest, where the sunlight is strewn down between the thick creepers in small spots and patches, pacing along as if they had an appointment at the end of the world. It was, in giant size, the border of a very old, infinitely precious Persian carpet, in the dyes of green, yellow and black-brown. I had time after time watched the progression across the plain of the Giraffe, in their queer, inimitable, vegetative gracefulness, as if it were not a herd of animals but a family of rare, long-stemmed, speckled gigantic flowers slowly advancing. I had followed two Rhinos on their morning promenade, when they were sniffing and snorting in the air of the dawn,—which is so cold that it hurts in the nose,—and looked like two very big angular stones rollicking in the long valley and enjoying life together. I had seen the royal lion, before sunrise, below a waning moon, crossing the grey plain on his way home from the kill, drawing a dark wake in the silvery grass, his face still red up to the ears, or during the midday-siesta, when he reposed contentedly in the midst of his family on the short grass and in the delicate, spring-like shade of the broad Acacia trees of his park of Africa.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide three more paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' The old chiefs sat and discussed their troubles of the present time with him, his jokes would make them laugh, and it was as if a hard stone had laughed.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Whenever Berkeley was tired or unwell he fell back on his thoughts of the Sea. He then grieved over his own foolishness in having spent a lifetime anywhere but on salt water, and used strong language about it. Once when I was going to Europe and he was in this mood, to please him I conceived the plan of bringing out two ships' lanterns, starboard and port, to hang by the entrance door of my house, and told him of it.
  So in Copenhagen in a sailors' shop by one of the old Canals, I bought a pair of big old heavy ships' lanterns, which had for many years sailed in the Baltic. We had them up on each side of the door, it faced East and we were pleased to think that the lamps were correctly placed; as the earth, on her course through the ether, throws herself forward, there would be no collision. These lamps gave Berkeley much content of heart. He often used to come to the house quite late, and ordinarily at a great speed, but when the lamps were lighted he drove slowly, slowly, up the drive, to let the little red and green stars in the night sink into his soul and bring back old pictures, reminiscences of ship-faring, to feel as if he were indeed approaching a silent ship on dark water. We developed a signalling system in regard to the lamps, changing their place or taking down the one, so that he should know, already while in the forest, in what mood he would find his hostess, and what sort of dinner was awaiting him.
  Berkeley, like his brother Galbraith Cole and his brother-in-law Lord Delamere, was an early settler, a pioneer of the Colony, and intimate with the Masai, who in those days were the domineering nation of the land. He had known them before the European civilization,—which in the depths of their hearts they loathed more than anything else in the world,—cut through their roots; before they were moved from their fair North country. He could speak with them of the old days in their own tongue. Whenever Berkeley was staying on the farm, the Masai came over the river to see him. The old chiefs sat and discussed their troubles of the present time with him, his jokes would make them laugh, and it was as if a hard stone had laughed.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Many of my friends had come down to the station to see me off. Hugh Martin was there, heavy and nonchalant, and as he came and said good-bye to me, I saw my Doctor Pangloss of the farm as a very lonely figure, a heroic figure, who had bought his loneliness with everything he had, and somehow an African symbol. We took a friendly leave: we had had much fun together, and many wise talks. Lord Delamere was a little older, a little whiter, and with his hair cut shorter than when I had had tea with him in the Masai Reserve, when I came down there with my ox-transport, at the beginning of the war, but as exceedingly and concernedly courteous and polite now as then. Most of the Somalis of Nairobi were on the platform. The old cattle-trader Abdallah came up and gave me a silver ring with a turquoise in it, to bring me luck. Bilea, Denys's servant gravely asked me to give his respects to his master's brother in England, in whose house he had stayed in the old days. The Somali women, Farah told me on the way down in the train, had been at the station in rickshas, but when they had seen so many Somali men collected there, they had lost heart and had just driven back. Now that the train was going to move, was already moving, he had got back his balance of mind. He wished so strongly to impart courage to me that he blushed deeply; his face was flaming and his light eyes shining at me.
  At the Samburu station on the line, I got out of the train while the engine was taking in water, and walked with Farah on the platform.
  From there, to the South-West, I saw the Ngong Hills. The noble wave of the mountain rose above the surrounding flat land, all air-blue. But it was so far away that the four peaks looked trifling, hardly distinguishable, and different from the way they looked from the farm. The outline of the mountain was slowly smoothed and levelled out by the hand of distance.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Gustav, Mohr.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Many of my friends had come down to the station to see me off. Hugh Martin was there, heavy and nonchalant, and as he came and said good-bye to me, I saw my Doctor Pangloss of the farm as a very lonely figure, a heroic figure, who had bought his loneliness with everything he had, and somehow an African symbol. We took a friendly leave: we had had much fun together, and many wise talks. Lord Delamere was a little older, a little whiter, and with his hair cut shorter than when I had had tea with him in the Masai Reserve, when I came down there with my ox-transport, at the beginning of the war, but as exceedingly and concernedly courteous and polite now as then. Most of the Somalis of Nairobi were on the platform. The old cattle-trader Abdallah came up and gave me a silver ring with a turquoise in it, to bring me luck. Bilea, Denys's servant gravely asked me to give his respects to his master's brother in England, in whose house he had stayed in the old days. The Somali women, Farah told me on the way down in the train, had been at the station in rickshas, but when they had seen so many Somali men collected there, they had lost heart and had just driven back. 
  Gustav Mohr and I shook hands when I was already in the train. Now that the train was going to move, was already moving, he had got back his balance of mind. He wished so strongly to impart courage to me that he blushed deeply; his face was flaming and his light eyes shining at me. 
  At the Samburu station on the line, I got out of the train while the engine was taking in water, and walked with Farah on the platform. 
  From there, to the South-West, I saw the Ngong Hills. The noble wave of the mountain rose above the surrounding flat land, all air-blue. But it was so far away that the four peaks looked trifling, hardly distinguishable, and different from the way they looked from the farm. The outline of the mountain was slowly smoothed and levelled out by the hand of distance.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first paragraph for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Out of Africa
  I sent a dove off south: I wrote to Messrs. Hunter and Company for information about my servants. They wrote back to inform me that Farah had died, and that without him they were unable to get on to any of the others.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Here Ali at least had come forth, then, in great state, accompanied by the Lion and the Unicorn. He would order the others back as well, and we would all be gathered together once more. I started on a correspondence with Ali. From the style of his letters I gathered that for these years he had—in contrast to earlier days—been living in a household with no financial worries. But he was faithful to the past; naming the horses and the dogs and bringing back things I myself had forgotten. "Do you remember," he wrote, "how the people give you name and call you: She who first of all see the New Moon?" In his repeated "things have changed" there was a gentle melancholy, which I recognized from the recollections of other Africans, who will dwell with preference on sad things. There was in his letter the sound of a lonely horn in the woods, a long way off.
  Juma, Ali wrote, was now a very old man, with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He lived upon the plot in the Masai Reserve that I had obtained for him. His son Tumbo was a lorry-driver in Nairobi.
  Saufe, Farah's son, was doing well as a horse-trader. He was soon going to marry, and as he was only seventeen years old by then, the fact was a sign of his prosperity.
  The news of Kamante, Ali wrote, was good, then bad, then a little better, then again somewhat sad. He had been clever all these years, "same as he been in the house," and on his land near Dagoretti he had a fine herd of cattle, sheep and goats. But he had gone blind. This, according to a clever doctor of Nairobi, might be bettered by an operation. But an operation would cost much money.
  I found, as I laid down Ali's letter, that I was not surprised to learn that Kamante had gone blind. His watchful eyes, so keenly observant that he had at times made me think of that "loyal servant" of Grimm's fairy-tale who had to wear a cloth round his eyes in order not to destroy what he gazed at, at the same time in an eerie way had in them the introspectiveness which you will find in the eyes of a blind man. I remembered, from our very first meeting, when I had knocked against the dying child on the plain, those glassy, patient eyes turned towards me, and I felt that I must have them light up once more, even although I myself was never again to meet their unbiased, stock-taking glance.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Thus, with deep satisfaction, I now see before me Old Knudsen righted, for a while laying down his harp in order to grip old fishermen's and mariners' tools, laughing out in triumph over Old Knudsen's enemies.
  So there they are, out from their coverts in the woods, in the rays of sunset, treading cautiously still, but looking round them more confidently than when they first came into sight, lifting and turning their heads. It is content to watch you so, friends and comrades, I wish you may wander and gaze there, so high up in the air, in the strange freedom of your hearts, for a long time still. You have kept me company through many years; I shall not again frivolously doubt your actuality, I shall, from now, leave to you the rich world of reality. And you may hand me over to those dreams of mine which will take charge of me.
  Ali writes good English now. He has seen my photograph in the paper. "Really and truthfully it makes my heart very much pleased to see your photo. Really and truthfully it fills my heart with joy when I hear your name spoken. Or when I speak your name."
  As I admire his handwriting and grammar, I sometimes seem to see Berkeley's little wry smile as in his mind he followed a line of wild duck on the glass-clear sky. And I wonder whether one more of them, fascinated by the decoys below, will here be slowing its flight to drop, in the end, like an arrow-head let off backwards by some heavenly archer, into the water of the pond, in order to become respectable.
  But Kamante, all through a triple layer of idiom, in a many-times-folded note, manages to preserve his originality. His last letter, of a month ago, ends up: