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@@ -67,6 +67,12 @@ tokenizer = AutoTokenizer.from_pretrained("EleutherAI/gpt-neox-20b")
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  ## Example Epilogue
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  **MPT-7B-StoryWriter**
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  >I have lived so long in the shadow of this dream that I may never see the bright sunlight of reality. I may look up some morning and find that I am six feet under, and that Gatsby, who gave me the dream and everything else, will have vanished behind me.
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  >And so it was. I had hardly crossed the threshold of the old world when my eye caught the headlines of a newspaper, and I knew at once that my dream was over. I knew that Gatsby was dead.
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  >
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  >And I knew that day that I didn't love her.
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- That night I took the last train for West Egg, and when I reached home I went directly to my attic and brought down all Gatsby's letters.
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- I have sorted them by date and placed them in the order in which they were written. They are very few in number.
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- They are dated between April of nineteen eighteen and January of nineteen nineteen, and the last one I have here is the one that told me he was dead.
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- There is something in that last letter that frightens me. It is the sense of a finality, of a completeness. I never heard of him after that, and I was glad.
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- But a few months ago I read somewhere that he had been seen in New York. He had become a great man.
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- And I knew that he had not changed at all.
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  ## Model Description
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  ## Example Epilogue
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+ **TheRealFitzgerald233**
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+ > {All of the text of _The Great Gatsby_, which is 67873 tokens}
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+ >
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+ > EPILOGUE
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+
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  **MPT-7B-StoryWriter**
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  >I have lived so long in the shadow of this dream that I may never see the bright sunlight of reality. I may look up some morning and find that I am six feet under, and that Gatsby, who gave me the dream and everything else, will have vanished behind me.
 
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  >And so it was. I had hardly crossed the threshold of the old world when my eye caught the headlines of a newspaper, and I knew at once that my dream was over. I knew that Gatsby was dead.
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  >
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  >And I knew that day that I didn't love her.
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+ >
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+ >That night I took the last train for West Egg, and when I reached home I went directly to my attic and brought down all Gatsby's letters.
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+ >
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+ >I have sorted them by date and placed them in the order in which they were written. They are very few in number.
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+ >
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+ >They are dated between April of nineteen eighteen and January of nineteen nineteen, and the last one I have here is the one that told me he was dead.
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+ >
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+ >There is something in that last letter that frightens me. It is the sense of a finality, of a completeness. I never heard of him after that, and I was glad.
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+ >
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+ >But a few months ago I read somewhere that he had been seen in New York. He had become a great man.
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+ >
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+ >And I knew that he had not changed at all.
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  ## Model Description
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