conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'To the Islands'?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: To the Islands
  Daniel Evans told me much about the language and mythology of his people, and on both subjects I received further enlightenment from the work, published and unpublished, of the linguist Dr A. Capell. His manuscript notes on the language were of great assistance in my dealings, as ration-storeman, with the nomadic Aborigines. I later became, for a short time, a student of his at the University of Sydney.
  A child dragged a stick along the corrugated-iron wall of a hut, and Heriot woke. His eyes, not yet broken to the light, rested on the mud-brick beside his bed, drifted slowly upwards to the grass-thatched roof. From a rafter an organ-grinder lizard peered sidelong over its pulsing throat.
  Outside, the crows had begun their restless crying over the settlement, tearing at his nerves. The women were coming up to the kitchen. He could hear their laughing, their rich beautiful voices. Already the heat was pressing down on him, the sheet under him clung to the skin of his back, and it not yet six o'clock and a long day.
  Heriot sat up and lowered his feet to the floor, slow in all his movements under the weight of his years and tiredness. Walking to the shower, his feet brushed the ground, his head was bent and his eyes lowered from the wounding light. Yet he was a tall man, stooping there under the overhanging thatch, a big man with his wild white hair, his face carved and calm. The lizards scattered from his path, the crows cried. Under running water, coursing the furrows of his face, a little of his weariness was washed away.
  Deep in fading grass the country stretched away from the hut, between the rocky ridge and the far blue ranges, dotted with white gums, yellow flowering green-trees, baobabs still clinging to their foliage. And from the grass, which harboured also goats, creepers and all rustling reptiles, rose the Mission, the ramshackle hamlet of huts and houses, iron and mud-brick and thatch, quiet below the quiet sky.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: When the fire had died down, Dixon in his sleep became vaguely conscious of the absence of light on his eyelids, and woke, and threw more wood on it. It crackled, then bloomed into flame. The great flame of fire, he thought, remembering Justin's voice. The light in its first blaze leaped to the edge of the water, then darkness pushed it back.
  In the morning Heriot woke happy, light filled the gorge and reached his bones, he felt careless and at ease. Justin, at the fire, grilling his fish, looked up warily and saw the old man's face, and smiled, whitely and warmly. 'You feeling good again,' he said.
  Across the fire Justin watched him enter the water, balancing cautiously on the slimy sunken rocks, his body white as a tree-trunk but with dark-brown forearms and neck that did not seem to belong to it. A trace of compassion touched the dark man's thick mouth as he applied himself to his cooking.
  When Heriot came out of the water his hair was flattened in strips over his forehead and drops hung in the white stubble on his face. He dried himself perfunctorily on his shirt, and dressed. His clothes stank, he discovered, but was not distressed. He went back to the fire and found Justin had finished his preparations; there was a billy full of tea and the fish was good, fine and juicy. 'Ah, you're a good man,' Heriot threw out vaguely.
  When he had eaten he pulled out his tobacco tin, looked in, frowning uncertainly, then closed it again and gazed into the fire.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last four paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Poised on the ledge, he threw the stone, and it floated slowly, slowly down the huge cliff face, and crashed against it; and slower and slower entered the sea, in a tiny circle of spray.
  And watching it, he staggered, and stepped back towards the cave, shaking in the legs, and in his head following the enormous fall into the waves.
  High overhead the eagle patrolled the cliff. But suddenly, passing under it, a gull flew out from the rock and planed towards the sun until it was hidden in light. And when the sun sank lower, there, in the heart of the blaze, might appear the islands.
  The old man kneeled among the bones and stared into the light. His carved lips were firm in the white beard, his hands were steady, his ancient blue eyes, neither hoping nor fearing, searched sun and sea for the least dark hint of a landfall.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Poised on the ledge, he threw the stone, and it floated slowly, slowly down the huge cliff face, and crashed against it; and slower and slower entered the sea, in a tiny circle of spray.
  And watching it, he staggered, and stepped back towards the cave, shaking in the legs, and in his head following the enormous fall into the waves.
  High overhead the eagle patrolled the cliff. But suddenly, passing under it, a gull flew out from the rock and planed towards the sun until it was hidden in light. And when the sun sank lower, there, in the heart of the blaze, might appear the islands.
  The old man kneeled among the bones and stared into the light.