-
Notifications
You must be signed in to change notification settings - Fork 1
/
alchemist54.html
106 lines (104 loc) · 4.92 KB
/
alchemist54.html
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
<!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>
<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">
</head>
<body>
<div class="container" >
<div id="myHeader" class="header">
<a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a>
<button class="bookmark-button">Bookmark</button>
<div class="wrapper">
<input type="text" id="text-to-search" placeholder="Enter text to search...">
<button onclick="search()">Search</button>
</div>
</div>
<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
“You can’t offer me something that is already mine,” the chief
said, arrogantly. But he granted the travelers three days.
The boy was shaking with fear, but the alchemist helped him out
of the tent.
“Don’t let them see that you’re afraid,” the alchemist said. “They
are brave men, and they despise cowards.”
But the boy couldn’t even speak. He was able to do so only after
they had walked through the center of the camp. There was no need
to imprison them: the Arabs simply confiscated their horses. So,
once again, the world had demonstrated its many languages: the
desert only moments ago had been endless and free, and now it was
an impenetrable wall.
“You gave them everything I had!” the boy said. “Everything I’ve
saved in my entire life!”
“Well, what good would it be to you if you had to die?” the
alchemist answered. “Your money saved us for three days. It’s not
often that money saves a person’s life.”
But the boy was too frightened to listen to words of wisdom. He
had no idea how he was going to transform himself into the wind.
He wasn’t an alchemist!
The alchemist asked one of the soldiers for some tea, and poured
some on the boy’s wrists. A wave of relief washed over him, and the
alchemist muttered some words that the boy didn’t understand.
“Don’t give in to your fears,” said the alchemist, in a strangely
gentle voice. “If you do, you won’t be able to talk to your heart.”
“But I have no idea how to turn myself into the wind.”
“If a person is living out his Personal Legend, he knows
everything he needs to know. There is only one thing that makes a
dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”
“I’m not afraid of failing. It’s just that I don’t know how to turn
myself into the wind.”
“Well, you’ll have to learn; your life depends on it.”
“But what if I can’t?”
“Then you’ll die in the midst of trying to realize your Personal
Legend. That’s a lot better than dying like millions of other people,
who never even knew what their Personal Legends were.
“But don’t worry,” the alchemist continued. “Usually the threat
of death makes people a lot more aware of their lives.”
THE FIRST DAY PASSED. THERE WAS A MAJOR BATTLE nearby, and a
number of wounded were brought back to the camp. The dead
soldiers were replaced by others, and life went on. Death doesn’t
change anything, the boy thought.
“You could have died later on,” a soldier said to the body of one
of his companions. “You could have died after peace had been
declared. But, in any case, you were going to die.”
At the end of the day, the boy went looking for the alchemist,
who had taken his falcon out into the desert.
“I still have no idea how to turn myself into the wind,” the boy
repeated.
“Remember what I told you: the world is only the visible aspect
of God. And that what alchemy does is to bring spiritual perfection
into contact with the material plane.”
“What are you doing?”
“Feeding my falcon.”
“If I’m not able to turn myself into the wind, we’re going to die,”
the boy said. “Why feed your falcon?”
“You’re the one who may die,” the alchemist said. “I already
know how to turn myself into the wind.”
ON THE SECOND DAY, THE BOY CLIMBED TO THE TOP OF A cliff near the
camp. The sentinels allowed him to go; they had already heard
about the sorcerer who could turn himself into the wind, and they
didn’t want to go near him. In any case, the desert was impassable.
He spent the entire afternoon of the second day looking out over
the desert, and listening to his heart. The boy knew the desert
sensed his fear.
They both spoke the same language.
ON THE THIRD DAY, THE CHIEF MET WITH HIS OFFICERS. He called the
alchemist to the meeting and said, “Let’s go see the boy who turns
himself into the wind.”
“Let’s,” the alchemist answered.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 54</h5>
<a href="alchemist53.html" class="previous">« Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist55.html" class="next">Next »</a>
</div>
</div>
<!-- script -->
<script src="script.js"></script>
</body>
</html>