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Rivas-Jorge committed Feb 22, 2023
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93 changes: 93 additions & 0 deletions alchemist10.html
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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>
<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">
“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>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 10</h5>
<a href="alchemist9.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist11.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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81 changes: 81 additions & 0 deletions alchemist11.html
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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>
<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">
“Can I help you?” asked the man behind the window.
“Maybe tomorrow,” said the boy, moving away. If he sold just
one of his sheep, he’d have enough to get to the other shore of the
strait. The idea frightened him.
“Another dreamer,” said the ticket seller to his assistant,
watching the boy walk away. “He doesn’t have enough money to
travel.”
While standing at the ticket window, the boy had remembered
his flock, and decided he should go back to being a shepherd. In two
years he had learned everything about shepherding: he knew how
to shear sheep, how to care for pregnant ewes, and how to protect
the sheep from wolves. He knew all the fields and pastures of
Andalusia. And he knew what was the fair price for every one of his
animals.
He decided to return to his friend’s stable by the longest route
possible. As he walked past the city’s castle, he interrupted his
return, and climbed the stone ramp that led to the top of the wall.
From there, he could see Africa in the distance. Someone had once
told him that it was from there that the Moors had come, to occupy
all of Spain.
He could see almost the entire city from where he sat, including
the plaza where he had talked with the old man. Curse the moment I
met that old man, he thought. He had come to the town only to find
a woman who could interpret his dream. Neither the woman nor the
old man was at all impressed by the fact that he was a shepherd.
They were solitary individuals who no longer believed in things,
and didn’t understand that shepherds become attached to their
sheep. He knew everything about each member of his flock: he
knew which ones were lame, which one was to give birth two
months from now, and which were the laziest. He knew how to
shear them, and how to slaughter them. If he ever decided to leave
them, they would suffer.
The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it
the levanter, because on it the Moors had come from the Levant at
the eastern end of the Mediterranean.
The levanter increased in intensity. Here I am, between my flock
and my treasure, the boy thought. He had to choose between
something he had become accustomed to and something he wanted
to have. There was also the merchant’s daughter, but she wasn’t as
important as his flock, because she didn’t depend on him. Maybe she
didn’t even remember him. He was sure that it made no difference
to her on which day he appeared: for her, every day was the same,
and when each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to
recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that
the sun rises.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 11</h5>
<a href="alchemist10.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist12.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
</div>

</div>

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<script src="script.js"></script>
</body>
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88 changes: 88 additions & 0 deletions alchemist12.html
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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>
<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">
I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They
have gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get
used to my not being there, too, the boy thought.
From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued
to come and go from the baker’s shop. A young couple sat on the
bench where he had talked with the old man, and they kissed.
“That baker…” he said to himself, without completing the
thought. The levanter was still getting stronger, and he felt its force
on his face. That wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also
brought the smell of the desert and of veiled women. It had brought
with it the sweat and the dreams of men who had once left to search
for the unknown, and for gold and adventure—and for the
Pyramids. The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the wind, and saw
that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to hold
him back except himself. The sheep, the merchant’s daughter, and
the fields of Andalusia were only steps along the way to his Personal
Legend.
The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six
sheep with him.
“I’m surprised,” the boy said. “My friend bought all the other
sheep immediately. He said that he had always dreamed of being a
shepherd, and that it was a good omen.”
“That’s the way it always is,” said the old man. “It’s called the
principle of favorability. When you play cards the first time, you are
almost sure to win. Beginner’s luck.”
“Why is that?”
“Because there is a force that wants you to realize your Personal
Legend; it whets your appetite with a taste of success.”
Then the old man began to inspect the sheep, and he saw that
one was lame. The boy explained that it wasn’t important, since that
sheep was the most intelligent of the flock, and produced the most
wool.
“Where is the treasure?” he asked.
“It’s in Egypt, near the Pyramids.”
The boy was startled. The old woman had said the same thing.
But she hadn’t charged him anything.
“In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens.
God has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to
read the omens that he left for you.”
Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered
between him and the old man. He remembered something his
grandfather had once told him: that butterflies were a good omen.
Like crickets, and like grasshoppers; like lizards and four-leaf
clovers.
“That’s right,” said the old man, able to read the boy’s thoughts.
“Just as your grandfather taught you. These are good omens.”
The old man opened his cape, and the boy was struck by what he
saw. The old man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with
precious stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on
the previous day.
He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters
with thieves.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 12</h5>
<a href="alchemist11.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist13.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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</div>

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<script src="script.js"></script>
</body>
</html>
94 changes: 94 additions & 0 deletions alchemist13.html
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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>
<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">

“Take these,” said the old man, holding out a white stone and a
black stone that had been embedded at the center of the
breastplate. “They are called Urim and Thummim. The black
signifies ‘yes,’ and the white ‘no.’ When you are unable to read the
omens, they will help you to do so. Always ask an objective
question.
“But, if you can, try to make your own decisions. The treasure is
at the Pyramids; that you already knew. But I had to insist on the
payment of six sheep because I helped you to make your decision.”
The boy put the stones in his pouch. From then on, he would
make his own decisions.
“Don’t forget that everything you deal with is only one thing and
nothing else. And don’t forget the language of omens. And, above all,
don’t forget to follow your Personal Legend through to its
conclusion.
“But before I go, I want to tell you a little story.
“A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of
happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered
through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful
castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.
“Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering
the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came
and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra
was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters
of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man
conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours
before it was his turn to be given the man’s attention.
“The wise man listened attentively to the boy’s explanation of
why he had come, but told him that he didn’t have time just then to
explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look
around the palace and return in two hours.
“‘Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something,’ said the wise
man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. ‘As you
wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil
to spill.’
“The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of
the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he
returned to the room where the wise man was.
“‘Well,’ asked the wise man, ‘did you see the Persian tapestries
that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it
took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the
beautiful parchments in my library?’
“The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed
nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise
man had entrusted to him.
“‘Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,’ said the
wise man. ‘You cannot trust a man if you don’t know his house.’
“Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his
exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art
on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all
around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which
everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he
related in detail everything he had seen.
“‘But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?’ asked the
wise man.
“Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was
gone.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 13</h5>
<a href="alchemist12.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist14.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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