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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge">
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
<title>the alchemist</title>
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<a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a>
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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
“Because you are trying to realize your Personal Legend. And
you are at the point where you’re about to give it all up.”
“And that’s when you always appear on the scene?”
“Not always in this way, but I always appear in one form or
another. Sometimes I appear in the form of a solution, or a good
idea. At other times, at a crucial moment, I make it easier for things
to happen. There are other things I do, too, but most of the time
people don’t realize I’ve done them.”
The old man related that, the week before, he had been forced to
appear before a miner, and had taken the form of a stone. The miner
had abandoned everything to go mining for emeralds. For five years
he had been working a certain river, and had examined hundreds of
thousands of stones looking for an emerald. The miner was about to
give it all up, right at the point when, if he were to examine just one
more stone—just one more—he would find his emerald. Since the
miner had sacrificed everything to his Personal Legend, the old man
decided to become involved. He transformed himself into a stone
that rolled up to the miner’s foot. The miner, with all the anger and
frustration of his five fruitless years, picked up the stone and threw
it aside. But he had thrown it with such force that it broke the stone
it fell upon, and there, embedded in the broken stone, was the most
beautiful emerald in the world.
“People learn, early in their lives, what is their reason for being,”
said the old man, with a certain bitterness. “Maybe that’s why they
give up on it so early, too. But that’s the way it is.”
The boy reminded the old man that he had said something about
hidden treasure.
“Treasure is uncovered by the force of flowing water, and it is
buried by the same currents,” said the old man. “If you want to learn
about your own treasure, you will have to give me one-tenth of your
flock.”
“What about one-tenth of my treasure?”
The old man looked disappointed. “If you start out by promising
what you don’t even have yet, you’ll lose your desire to work
toward getting it.”
The boy told him that he had already promised to give one-tenth
of his treasure to the Gypsy.
“Gypsies are experts at getting people to do that,” sighed the old
man. “In any case, it’s good that you’ve learned that everything in
life has its price. This is what the Warriors of the Light try to teach.”
The old man returned the book to the boy.
“Tomorrow, at this same time, bring me a tenth of your flock.
And I will tell you how to find the hidden treasure. Good afternoon.”
And he vanished around the corner of the plaza.
THE BOY BEGAN AGAIN TO READ HIS BOOK, BUT HE WAS NO longer able to
concentrate. He was tense and upset, because he knew that the old
man was right. He went over to the bakery and bought a loaf of
bread, thinking about whether or not he should tell the baker what
the old man had said about him. Sometimes it’s better to leave
things as they are, he thought to himself, and decided to say nothing.
If he were to say anything, the baker would spend three days
thinking about giving it all up, even though he had gotten used to
the way things were. The boy could certainly resist causing that
kind of anxiety for the baker. So he began to wander through the
city, and found himself at the gates. There was a small building
there, with a window at which people bought tickets to Africa. And
he knew that Egypt was in Africa.
</p>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 10</h5>
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