conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The Folded Leaf about York, Times, Book with the genre: Humor & Entertainment, Humor.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ... does precisely, beautifully and completely what it sets out to do. -- The New York Times Book Review, Richard Sullivan
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Folded Leaf
  The blue lines down the floor of the swimming pool wavered and shivered incessantly, and something about the shape of the place—the fact that it was long and narrow, perhaps, and lined with tile to the ceiling—made their voices ring. The same voices that sounded sad in the open air, on the high school playground. "Lights! Lights!" it seemed as if they were shouting at each other across the water and from the balcony stairs.
  All of them were naked, and until Mr. Pritzker appeared they could only look at the water; they couldn't go in. They collected on the diving board, pushed and tripped each other, and wrestled halfheartedly. Those along the edge of the pool took short harmless jabs and made threats which they had no intention ever of carrying out but which helped pass the time. The swimming class was nearly always the same. First the roll call, then a fifteen-minute period of instruction in the backstroke or the flutter kick or breathing, and finally a relay race. Mr. Pritzker picked out two boys and let them choose their own teams. They did it seriously, going down through the class and pointing to the best swimmers, to the next best, and in diminishing order after that. But actually it was the last one chosen that mattered. Whichever side had to take Lymie Peters lost. Lymie couldn't swim the Australian crawl. Week after week the relay began in the greatest excitement and continued back and forth from one end of the pool to the other until it was Lymie's turn.
  Since he was not any good at sports, the best Lymie could do was to efface himself. In gym class, on the days when they played outdoor baseball, he legged it out to right field and from that comparatively safe place watched the game. Few balls ever went out there and the center fielder knew that Lymie couldn't catch them if they did. But in swimming class there was no place to retire to. He stood apart from the others, a thin, flat-chested boy with dark hair that grew down in a widow's peak on his forehead, and large hesitant brown eyes. He was determined when the time came to do his best, and no one held it against him that he always decided the race. On the other hand, they never bothered to cover up that fact.
  This day two things happened which were out of the ordinary. Mr. Pritzker brought something with him which looked like a basketball only larger, and there was a new boy in the class. The new boy had light hair and gray eyes set a trifle too close together. He was not quite handsome but his body, for a boy's body, was very well made, with a natural masculine grace. Occasionally people turn up—like the new boy—who serve as a kind of reminder of those ideal, almost abstract rules of proportion from which the human being, however faulty, is copied. There were boys in the class who were larger and more muscular, but when the new boy stepped into the line which formed at the edge of the pool, the others seemed clumsy, their arms and legs too long or their knees too large. They glanced at him furtively, appraising him. He looked down at the tile floor or past them all into space.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about dived, started.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Folded Leaf
  The blue lines down the floor of the swimming pool wavered and shivered incessantly, and something about the shape of the place—the fact that it was long and narrow, perhaps, and lined with tile to the ceiling—made their voices ring. The same voices that sounded sad in the open air, on the high school playground. "Lights! Lights!" it seemed as if they were shouting at each other across the water and from the balcony stairs. 
  All of them were naked, and until Mr. Pritzker appeared they could only look at the water; they couldn't go in. They collected on the diving board, pushed and tripped each other, and wrestled halfheartedly. Those along the edge of the pool took short harmless jabs and made threats which they had no intention ever of carrying out but which helped pass the time. The swimming class was nearly always the same. First the roll call, then a fifteen-minute period of instruction in the backstroke or the flutter kick or breathing, and finally a relay race. Mr. Pritzker picked out two boys and let them choose their own teams. They did it seriously, going down through the class and pointing to the best swimmers, to the next best, and in diminishing order after that. But actually it was the last one chosen that mattered. Whichever side had to take Lymie Peters lost. Lymie couldn't swim the Australian crawl. Week after week the relay began in the greatest excitement and continued back and forth from one end of the pool to the other until it was Lymie's turn. When he dived in and started his slow frantic side stroke, the race died, the place grew still. 
  Since he was not any good at sports, the best Lymie could do was to efface himself. In gym class, on the days when they played outdoor baseball, he legged it out to right field and from that comparatively safe place watched the game. Few balls ever went out there and the center fielder knew that Lymie couldn't catch them if they did. But in swimming class there was no place to retire to. He stood apart from the others, a thin, flat-chested boy with dark hair that grew down in a widow's peak on his forehead, and large hesitant brown eyes. He was determined when the time came to do his best, and no one held it against him that he always decided the race. On the other hand, they never bothered to cover up that fact. 
  This day two things happened which were out of the ordinary. Mr. Pritzker brought something with him which looked like a basketball only larger, and there was a new boy in the class. The new boy had light hair and gray eyes set a trifle too close together. He was not quite handsome but his body, for a boy's body, was very well made, with a natural masculine grace. Occasionally people turn up—like the new boy—who serve as a kind of reminder of those ideal, almost abstract rules of proportion from which the human being, however faulty, is copied. There were boys in the class who were larger and more muscular, but when the new boy stepped into the line which formed at the edge of the pool, the others seemed clumsy, their arms and legs too long or their knees too large. They glanced at him furtively, appraising him. He looked down at the tile floor or past them all into space.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me another paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: There were a dozen boys standing in the front hall. Armstrong was among them. Lymie had never seen him anywhere except at the gymnasium and he wondered what would happen now if Armstrong, in his double-breasted dark blue suit, were to brace himself and do a handstand on the polished floor. He showed no signs of wanting to. He looked detached, very much at ease, very sure of himself. He recognized Spud with a slight flicker of surprise and spoke to him. Spud nodded coldly and went on to the coatroom, with Lymie in his wake.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Armstrong was among them. Lymie had never seen him anywhere except at the gymnasium and he wondered what would happen now if Armstrong, in his double-breasted dark blue suit, were to brace himself and do a handstand on the polished floor. He showed no signs of wanting to. He looked detached, very much at ease, very sure of himself. He recognized Spud with a slight flicker of surprise and spoke to him. Spud nodded coldly and went on to the coatroom, with Lymie in his wake.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Spud walked over and examined the flowers closely. "They're just like the kind that grow in Wisconsin," he said.
  When he came back he sat on the bed again, beside Sally this time. She took his hand in hers and Lymie's hand in her other hand, and with her eyes shining with mischief she said, "Well, here we all are!"
  Through the story of an ordinary man who unwittingly gets drawn into a senseless murder, Camus explores in this classic work what he termed "the nakedness of man faced with the absurd."
  The tragedy of the Compsons, featuring some of the most memorable characters in literature: rebellious Caddy; the manchild Benjy; haunted Quentin; brutal Jason; and Dilsey, their black servant.
  The famous and controversial novel that tells the story of the aging Humbert Humbert's obsessive, devouring, and doomed passion for the nymphet Dolores Haze.