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<title>the alchemist</title>
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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
“And I’d better read your books,” said the boy.
THEY WERE STRANGE BOOKS. THEY SPOKE ABOUT MERCURY, salt, dragons,
and kings, and he didn’t understand any of it. But there was one idea
that seemed to repeat itself throughout all the books: all things are
the manifestation of one thing only.
In one of the books he learned that the most important text in
the literature of alchemy contained only a few lines, and had been
inscribed on the surface of an emerald.
“It’s the Emerald Tablet,” said the Englishman, proud that he
might teach something to the boy.
“Well, then, why do we need all these books?” the boy asked.
“So that we can understand those few lines,” the Englishman
answered, without appearing really to believe what he had said.
The book that most interested the boy told the stories of the
famous alchemists. They were men who had dedicated their entire
lives to the purification of metals in their laboratories; they believed
that, if a metal were heated for many years, it would free itself of all
its individual properties, and what was left would be the Soul of the
World. This Soul of the World allowed them to understand anything
on the face of the earth, because it was the language with which all
things communicated. They called that discovery the Master
Work—it was part liquid and part solid.
“Can’t you just observe men and omens in order to understand
the language?” the boy asked.
“You have a mania for simplifying everything,” answered the
Englishman, irritated. “Alchemy is a serious discipline. Every step
has to be followed exactly as it was followed by the masters.”
The boy learned that the liquid part of the Master Work was
called the Elixir of Life, and that it cured all illnesses; it also kept the
alchemist from growing old. And the solid part was called the
Philosopher’s Stone.
“It’s not easy to find the Philosopher’s Stone,” said the
Englishman. “The alchemists spent years in their laboratories,
observing the fire that purified the metals. They spent so much time
close to the fire that gradually they gave up the vanities of the
world. They discovered that the purification of the metals had led to
a purification of themselves.”
The boy thought about the crystal merchant. He had said that it
was a good thing for the boy to clean the crystal pieces, so that he
could free himself from negative thoughts. The boy was becoming
more and more convinced that alchemy could be learned in one’s
daily life.
“Also,” said the Englishman, “the Philosopher’s Stone has a
fascinating property. A small sliver of the stone can transform large
quantities of metal into gold.”
Having heard that, the boy became even more interested in
alchemy. He thought that, with some patience, he’d be able to
transform everything into gold. He read the lives of the various
people who had succeeded in doing so: Helvétius, Elias, Fulcanelli,
and Geber. They were fascinating stories: each of them lived out his
Personal Legend to the end. They traveled, spoke with wise men,
performed miracles for the incredulous, and owned the
Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life.
But when the boy wanted to learn how to achieve the Master
Work, he became completely lost. There were just drawings, coded
instructions, and obscure texts.
“WHY DO THEY MAKE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?” HE asked the Englishman
one night. The boy had noticed that the Englishman was irritable,
and missed his books.
“So that those who have the responsibility for understanding can
understand,” he said. “Imagine if everyone went around
transforming lead into gold. Gold would lose its value.
“It’s only those who are persistent, and willing to study things
deeply, who achieve the Master Work. That’s why I’m here in the
middle of the desert. I’m seeking a true alchemist who will help me
to decipher the codes.”
“When were these books written?” the boy asked.
“Many centuries ago.”
</p>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 33</h5>
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