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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">
The Arabs laughed at him, and the alchemist laughed along. They
thought his answer was amusing, and they allowed the boy and the
alchemist to proceed with all of their belongings.
“Are you crazy?” the boy asked the alchemist, when they had
moved on. “What did you do that for?”
“To show you one of life’s simple lessons,” the alchemist
answered. “When you possess great treasures within you, and try to
tell others of them, seldom are you believed.”
They continued across the desert. With every day that passed,
the boy’s heart became more and more silent. It no longer wanted to
know about things of the past or future; it was content simply to
contemplate the desert, and to drink with the boy from the Soul of
the World. The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither
was capable now of betraying the other.
When his heart spoke to him, it was to provide a stimulus to the
boy, and to give him strength, because the days of silence there in
the desert were wearisome. His heart told the boy what his
strongest qualities were: his courage in having given up his sheep
and in trying to live out his Personal Legend, and his enthusiasm
during the time he had worked at the crystal shop.
And his heart told him something else that the boy had never
noticed: it told the boy of dangers that had threatened him, but that
he had never perceived. His heart said that one time it had hidden
the rifle the boy had taken from his father, because of the possibility
that the boy might wound himself. And it reminded the boy of the
day when he had been ill and vomiting out in the fields, after which
he had fallen into a deep sleep. There had been two thieves farther
ahead who were planning to steal the boy’s sheep and murder him.
But, since the boy hadn’t passed by, they had decided to move on,
thinking that he had changed his route.
“Does a man’s heart always help him?” the boy asked the
alchemist.
“Mostly just the hearts of those who are trying to realize their
Personal Legends. But they do help children, drunkards, and the
elderly, too.”
“Does that mean that I’ll never run into danger?”
“It means only that the heart does what it can,” the alchemist
said.
One afternoon, they passed by the encampment of one of the
tribes. At each corner of the camp were Arabs garbed in beautiful
white robes, with arms at the ready. The men were smoking their
hookahs and trading stories from the battlefield. No one paid any
attention to the two travelers.
“There’s no danger,” the boy said, when they had moved on past
the encampment.
The alchemist sounded angry: “Trust in your heart, but never
forget that you’re in the desert. When men are at war with one
another, the Soul of the World can hear the screams of battle. No
one fails to suffer the consequences of everything under the sun.”
All things are one, the boy thought. And then, as if the desert
wanted to demonstrate that the alchemist was right, two horsemen
appeared from behind the travelers.
“You can’t go any farther,” one of them said. “You’re in the area
where the tribes are at war.”
“I’m not going very far,” the alchemist answered, looking
straight into the eyes of the horsemen. They were silent for a
moment, and then agreed that the boy and the alchemist could
move along.
The boy watched the exchange with fascination. “You dominated
those horsemen with the way you looked at them,” he said.
“Your eyes show the strength of your soul,” answered the
alchemist.
That’s true, the boy thought. He had noticed that, in the midst of
the multitude of armed men back at the encampment, there had
been one who stared fixedly at the two. He had been so far away
that his face wasn’t even visible. But the boy was certain that he had
been looking at them.
Finally, when they had crossed the mountain range that
extended along the entire horizon, the alchemist said that they were
only two days from the Pyramids.
“If we’re going to go our separate ways soon,” the boy said, “then
teach me about alchemy.”
“You already know about alchemy. It is about penetrating to the
Soul of the World, and discovering the treasure that has been
reserved for you.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about transforming lead
into gold.”
The alchemist fell as silent as the desert, and answered the boy
only after they had stopped to eat.
“Everything in the universe evolved,” he said. “And, for wise
men, gold is the metal that evolved the furthest. Don’t ask me why; I
don’t know why. I just know that the Tradition is always right.
“Men have never understood the words of the wise. So gold,
instead of being seen as a symbol of evolution, became the basis for
conflict.”
“There are many languages spoken by things,” the boy said.
“There was a time when, for me, a camel’s whinnying was nothing
more than whinnying. Then it became a signal of danger. And,
finally, it became just a whinny again.”
But then he stopped. The alchemist probably already knew all
that.
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 52</h5>
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