conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for a story with the title 'King of the World'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: King of the World
  The Liston-Clay weigh-in was scheduled for the morning of the fight; it was to be held in a freight area of the Miami Beach Convention Hall. Clay arrived at the arena wearing a blue denim jacket with the words "Bear Huntin' " embroidered on it in red. His entourage included Dundee, Sugar Ray Robinson, William Faversham of the Louisville Group, and Bundini. Hardly anyone was at the arena yet, but Clay was already warming up: he and Bundini shouted, "Float like a butterfly! Sting like a bee!" and Clay pounded the floor with an African walking stick.
  The team marched into a dressing room, and, as Clay changed into a white terry-cloth robe, Robinson and Dundee tried to calm him down.
  Clay and Bundini came out screaming and yelling at 11:09. They were still screaming when Liston came out two minutes later.
  Clay lunged at Liston. Bundini grabbed the belt of his robe and Faversham, Robinson, and Dundee held him back. Robinson tried to shove Clay against a wall, and Clay shoved back, shouting, "I am a great performer! I am a great performer!"
  Years later, when this sort of hysteria was understood as a standing joke, like Emmett Kelly slipping on a banana peel or Don Rickles calling someone in the audience a hockey puck, the writers merely rolled their eyes. It was just Ali. But no one had ever seen anything like this before. Traditionally, anything but the most stoic behavior meant that a fighter was terrified, which was precisely what Clay wanted Liston to believe.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Bundini had grown up in Florida, but after so many years abroad and up North, he thought he could avoid an incident. But in the luncheonette, the manager told them in the plainest terms that there was a separate place, a window "out back," where they could get something to eat if they insisted on eating together.
  Ali went in and grabbed Bundini by the collar and started shouting, "What's the matter with you—you damn fool! I told you to be a Muslim. Then you don't go places where you're not wanted. You clear out of this place, nigger! You ain't wanted here!"
  Ali kept it up, haranguing Bundini all the way back onto the bus. The writers looked on amazed. Bundini was on the edge of tears.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Then Ali said he was tired. It was a nice way of saying goodbye. He walked with me down the stairs and out to the driveway.
  I said goodbye and drove down the long road to his gate. In the mirror, I could see Ali still standing out on the gravel. He waved once, very slowly, then turned around and walked back inside the house for his afternoon prayers.
  The heavyweight championship fights of the early sixties fall in a strange crevice between history and recent events. To readers over forty, the early Ali fights are the stuff of early (or not-so-early) memory. To those who are younger, they are as distant as Agincourt. Many participants and witnesses who figure in the story of the rise of Muhammad Ali have died, including Sonny Liston, Malcolm X, Elijah Muhammad, Betty Shabazz, Willie Reddish, Jimmy Cannon, Cus D'Amato, Joe Martin, Odessa Clay, and Cassius Clay, Sr. But with the exception of a few living sources who refused to be interviewed, the main actors who are still alive were uncommonly generous with their time and recollections. I am especially grateful to Muhammad and Lonnie Ali, who invited me to their farm in Michigan, and to Howard Bingham and Thomas Hauser for helping to make that meeting possible.
  I am grateful for interviews to Maury Allen, Dave Anderson, Teddy Atlas, Milt Bailey, Lem Banker, Gary Beckwith, Jack Bonomi, Kirby Bradley, Dennis Caputo, Gil Clancy, Foneda Cox, Stanley Crouch, Gordon Davidson, Angelo Dundee, Henry Ealy, Gerald Early, Beverly Edwards, Jimmy Ellis, Ralph Ellison, Sam Eveland, Leon Gast, Truman Gibson, Pete Hamill, Tom Hauser, John Horne, Jerry Izenberg, Lamont Johnson, Murray Kempton, Neil Leifer, Robert Lipsyte, Jack McKinney, Larry Merchant, Archie Moore, Toni Morrison, Jill Nelson, Jack Newfield, Gil Noble, Ferdie Pacheco, Floyd Patterson, Davey Pearl, George Plimpton, Ed Pope, Pat Putnam, Gil Rogin, Harold D. Rowe, Jeffrey Sammons, Sonia Sanchez, Dick Schaap, Mort Sharnik, James Silberman, Bert Sugar, Gay Talese, Ernie Terrell, José Torres, Mike Tyson, and Dean Weidemann.
  On the night in 1964 that Muhammad Ali (then known as Cassius Clay) stepped into the ring with Sonny Liston, he was widely regarded as an irritating freak who danced and talked way too much. Six rounds later Ali was not only the new world heavyweight boxing champion: he was "a new kind of black man" who would shortly transform America's racial politics, its popular culture, and its notions of heroism. No one has captured Ali—and the era that he exhilarated and sometimes infuriated—with greater vibrancy, drama, and astuteness than David Remnick.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: No one has captured Ali—and the era that he exhilarated and sometimes infuriated—with greater vibrancy, drama, and astuteness than David Remnick.. Six rounds later Ali was not only the new world heavyweight boxing champion: he was "a new kind of black man" who would shortly transform America's racial politics, its popular culture, and its notions of heroism.
  On the night in 1964 that Muhammad Ali (then known as Cassius Clay) stepped into the ring with Sonny Liston, he was widely regarded as an irritating freak who danced and talked way too much. Rowe, Jeffrey Sammons, Sonia Sanchez, Dick Schaap, Mort Sharnik, James Silberman, Bert Sugar, Gay Talese, Ernie Terrell, José Torres, Mike Tyson, and Dean Weidemann.
  I am grateful for interviews to Maury Allen, Dave Anderson, Teddy Atlas, Milt Bailey, Lem Banker, Gary Beckwith, Jack Bonomi, Kirby Bradley, Dennis Caputo, Gil Clancy, Foneda Cox, Stanley Crouch, Gordon Davidson, Angelo Dundee, Henry Ealy, Gerald Early, Beverly Edwards, Jimmy Ellis, Ralph Ellison, Sam Eveland, Leon Gast, Truman Gibson, Pete Hamill, Tom Hauser, John Horne, Jerry Izenberg, Lamont Johnson, Murray Kempton, Neil Leifer, Robert Lipsyte, Jack McKinney, Larry Merchant, Archie Moore, Toni Morrison, Jill Nelson, Jack Newfield, Gil Noble, Ferdie Pacheco, Floyd Patterson, Davey Pearl, George Plimpton, Ed Pope, Pat Putnam, Gil Rogin, Harold D. I am especially grateful to Muhammad and Lonnie Ali, who invited me to their farm in Michigan, and to Howard Bingham and Thomas Hauser for helping to make that meeting possible. But with the exception of a few living sources who refused to be interviewed, the main actors who are still alive were uncommonly generous with their time and recollections. Many participants and witnesses who figure in the story of the rise of Muhammad Ali have died, including Sonny Liston, Malcolm X, Elijah Muhammad, Betty Shabazz, Willie Reddish, Jimmy Cannon, Cus D'Amato, Joe Martin, Odessa Clay, and Cassius Clay, Sr. To those who are younger, they are as distant as Agincourt. To readers over forty, the early Ali fights are the stuff of early (or not-so-early) memory.
  The heavyweight championship fights of the early sixties fall in a strange crevice between history and recent events. He waved once, very slowly, then turned around and walked back inside the house for his afternoon prayers. In the mirror, I could see Ali still standing out on the gravel.
  I said goodbye and drove down the long road to his gate. He walked with me down the stairs and out to the driveway. It was a nice way of saying goodbye.Then Ali said he was tired