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‎alchemist10.html

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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<html lang="en">
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<head>
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<meta charset="UTF-8">
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<meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge">
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
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<title>the alchemist</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">
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</head>
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<body>
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<div class="container" >
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<div id="myHeader" class="header">
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<a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a>
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<button class="bookmark-button">Bookmark</button>
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<div class="wrapper">
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<input type="text" id="text-to-search" placeholder="Enter text to search...">
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<button onclick="search()">Search</button>
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</div>
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</div>
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<h6>Author</h6>
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<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
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<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
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<p id="paragraph">
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“Because you are trying to realize your Personal Legend. And
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you are at the point where you’re about to give it all up.”
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“And that’s when you always appear on the scene?”
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“Not always in this way, but I always appear in one form or
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another. Sometimes I appear in the form of a solution, or a good
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idea. At other times, at a crucial moment, I make it easier for things
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to happen. There are other things I do, too, but most of the time
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people don’t realize I’ve done them.”
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The old man related that, the week before, he had been forced to
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appear before a miner, and had taken the form of a stone. The miner
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had abandoned everything to go mining for emeralds. For five years
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he had been working a certain river, and had examined hundreds of
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thousands of stones looking for an emerald. The miner was about to
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give it all up, right at the point when, if he were to examine just one
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more stone—just one more—he would find his emerald. Since the
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miner had sacrificed everything to his Personal Legend, the old man
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decided to become involved. He transformed himself into a stone
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that rolled up to the miner’s foot. The miner, with all the anger and
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frustration of his five fruitless years, picked up the stone and threw
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it aside. But he had thrown it with such force that it broke the stone
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it fell upon, and there, embedded in the broken stone, was the most
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beautiful emerald in the world.
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“People learn, early in their lives, what is their reason for being,”
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said the old man, with a certain bitterness. “Maybe that’s why they
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give up on it so early, too. But that’s the way it is.”
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The boy reminded the old man that he had said something about
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hidden treasure.
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“Treasure is uncovered by the force of flowing water, and it is
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buried by the same currents,” said the old man. “If you want to learn
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about your own treasure, you will have to give me one-tenth of your
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flock.”
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“What about one-tenth of my treasure?”
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The old man looked disappointed. “If you start out by promising
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what you don’t even have yet, you’ll lose your desire to work
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toward getting it.”
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The boy told him that he had already promised to give one-tenth
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of his treasure to the Gypsy.
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“Gypsies are experts at getting people to do that,” sighed the old
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man. “In any case, it’s good that you’ve learned that everything in
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life has its price. This is what the Warriors of the Light try to teach.”
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The old man returned the book to the boy.
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“Tomorrow, at this same time, bring me a tenth of your flock.
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And I will tell you how to find the hidden treasure. Good afternoon.”
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And he vanished around the corner of the plaza.
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THE BOY BEGAN AGAIN TO READ HIS BOOK, BUT HE WAS NO longer able to
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concentrate. He was tense and upset, because he knew that the old
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man was right. He went over to the bakery and bought a loaf of
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bread, thinking about whether or not he should tell the baker what
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the old man had said about him. Sometimes it’s better to leave
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things as they are, he thought to himself, and decided to say nothing.
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If he were to say anything, the baker would spend three days
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thinking about giving it all up, even though he had gotten used to
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the way things were. The boy could certainly resist causing that
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kind of anxiety for the baker. So he began to wander through the
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city, and found himself at the gates. There was a small building
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there, with a window at which people bought tickets to Africa. And
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he knew that Egypt was in Africa.
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</p>
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<div>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 10</h5>
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<a href="alchemist9.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
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<a href="alchemist11.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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</div>
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</div>
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<!-- script -->
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<script src="script.js"></script>
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</body>
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‎alchemist11.html

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<meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge">
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
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<title>the alchemist</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">
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</head>
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<body>
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<div class="container" >
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<div id="myHeader" class="header">
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<a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a>
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<button class="bookmark-button">Bookmark</button>
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<div class="wrapper">
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<input type="text" id="text-to-search" placeholder="Enter text to search...">
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<button onclick="search()">Search</button>
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</div>
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</div>
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<h6>Author</h6>
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<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
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<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
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<p id="paragraph">
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“Can I help you?” asked the man behind the window.
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“Maybe tomorrow,” said the boy, moving away. If he sold just
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one of his sheep, he’d have enough to get to the other shore of the
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strait. The idea frightened him.
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“Another dreamer,” said the ticket seller to his assistant,
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watching the boy walk away. “He doesn’t have enough money to
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travel.”
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While standing at the ticket window, the boy had remembered
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his flock, and decided he should go back to being a shepherd. In two
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years he had learned everything about shepherding: he knew how
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to shear sheep, how to care for pregnant ewes, and how to protect
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the sheep from wolves. He knew all the fields and pastures of
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Andalusia. And he knew what was the fair price for every one of his
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animals.
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He decided to return to his friend’s stable by the longest route
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possible. As he walked past the city’s castle, he interrupted his
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return, and climbed the stone ramp that led to the top of the wall.
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From there, he could see Africa in the distance. Someone had once
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told him that it was from there that the Moors had come, to occupy
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all of Spain.
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He could see almost the entire city from where he sat, including
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the plaza where he had talked with the old man. Curse the moment I
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met that old man, he thought. He had come to the town only to find
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a woman who could interpret his dream. Neither the woman nor the
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old man was at all impressed by the fact that he was a shepherd.
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They were solitary individuals who no longer believed in things,
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and didn’t understand that shepherds become attached to their
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sheep. He knew everything about each member of his flock: he
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knew which ones were lame, which one was to give birth two
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months from now, and which were the laziest. He knew how to
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shear them, and how to slaughter them. If he ever decided to leave
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them, they would suffer.
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The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it
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the levanter, because on it the Moors had come from the Levant at
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the eastern end of the Mediterranean.
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The levanter increased in intensity. Here I am, between my flock
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and my treasure, the boy thought. He had to choose between
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something he had become accustomed to and something he wanted
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to have. There was also the merchant’s daughter, but she wasn’t as
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important as his flock, because she didn’t depend on him. Maybe she
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didn’t even remember him. He was sure that it made no difference
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to her on which day he appeared: for her, every day was the same,
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and when each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to
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recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that
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the sun rises.
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</p>
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<div>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 11</h5>
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<a href="alchemist10.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
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<a href="alchemist12.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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</div>
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</div>
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<script src="script.js"></script>
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</body>
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</html>

‎alchemist12.html

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<meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge">
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
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<title>the alchemist</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">
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</head>
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<body>
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<div class="container" >
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<div id="myHeader" class="header">
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<a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a>
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<button class="bookmark-button">Bookmark</button>
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<div class="wrapper">
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<input type="text" id="text-to-search" placeholder="Enter text to search...">
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<button onclick="search()">Search</button>
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</div>
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</div>
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<h6>Author</h6>
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<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
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<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
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<p id="paragraph">
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I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They
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have gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get
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used to my not being there, too, the boy thought.
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From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued
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to come and go from the baker’s shop. A young couple sat on the
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bench where he had talked with the old man, and they kissed.
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“That baker…” he said to himself, without completing the
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thought. The levanter was still getting stronger, and he felt its force
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on his face. That wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also
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brought the smell of the desert and of veiled women. It had brought
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with it the sweat and the dreams of men who had once left to search
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for the unknown, and for gold and adventure—and for the
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Pyramids. The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the wind, and saw
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that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to hold
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him back except himself. The sheep, the merchant’s daughter, and
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the fields of Andalusia were only steps along the way to his Personal
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Legend.
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The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six
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sheep with him.
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“I’m surprised,” the boy said. “My friend bought all the other
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sheep immediately. He said that he had always dreamed of being a
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shepherd, and that it was a good omen.”
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“That’s the way it always is,” said the old man. “It’s called the
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principle of favorability. When you play cards the first time, you are
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almost sure to win. Beginner’s luck.”
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“Why is that?”
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“Because there is a force that wants you to realize your Personal
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Legend; it whets your appetite with a taste of success.”
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Then the old man began to inspect the sheep, and he saw that
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one was lame. The boy explained that it wasn’t important, since that
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sheep was the most intelligent of the flock, and produced the most
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wool.
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“Where is the treasure?” he asked.
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“It’s in Egypt, near the Pyramids.”
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The boy was startled. The old woman had said the same thing.
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But she hadn’t charged him anything.
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“In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens.
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God has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to
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read the omens that he left for you.”
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Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered
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between him and the old man. He remembered something his
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grandfather had once told him: that butterflies were a good omen.
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Like crickets, and like grasshoppers; like lizards and four-leaf
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clovers.
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“That’s right,” said the old man, able to read the boy’s thoughts.
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“Just as your grandfather taught you. These are good omens.”
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The old man opened his cape, and the boy was struck by what he
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saw. The old man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with
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precious stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on
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the previous day.
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He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters
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with thieves.
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</p>
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<div>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 12</h5>
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<a href="alchemist11.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
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<a href="alchemist13.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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</div>
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</div>
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<!-- script -->
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<script src="script.js"></script>
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</body>
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‎alchemist13.html

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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<html lang="en">
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<head>
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<meta charset="UTF-8">
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<meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge">
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
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<title>the alchemist</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">
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</head>
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<body>
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<div class="container" >
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<div id="myHeader" class="header">
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<a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a>
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<button class="bookmark-button">Bookmark</button>
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<div class="wrapper">
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<input type="text" id="text-to-search" placeholder="Enter text to search...">
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<button onclick="search()">Search</button>
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</div>
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</div>
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<h6>Author</h6>
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<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
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<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
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<p id="paragraph">
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“Take these,” said the old man, holding out a white stone and a
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black stone that had been embedded at the center of the
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breastplate. “They are called Urim and Thummim. The black
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signifies ‘yes,’ and the white ‘no.’ When you are unable to read the
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omens, they will help you to do so. Always ask an objective
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question.
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“But, if you can, try to make your own decisions. The treasure is
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at the Pyramids; that you already knew. But I had to insist on the
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payment of six sheep because I helped you to make your decision.”
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The boy put the stones in his pouch. From then on, he would
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make his own decisions.
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“Don’t forget that everything you deal with is only one thing and
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nothing else. And don’t forget the language of omens. And, above all,
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don’t forget to follow your Personal Legend through to its
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conclusion.
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“But before I go, I want to tell you a little story.
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“A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of
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happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered
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through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful
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castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.
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“Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering
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the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came
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and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra
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was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters
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of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man
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conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours
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before it was his turn to be given the man’s attention.
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“The wise man listened attentively to the boy’s explanation of
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why he had come, but told him that he didn’t have time just then to
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explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look
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around the palace and return in two hours.
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“‘Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something,’ said the wise
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man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. ‘As you
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wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil
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to spill.’
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“The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of
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the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he
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returned to the room where the wise man was.
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“‘Well,’ asked the wise man, ‘did you see the Persian tapestries
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that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it
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took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the
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beautiful parchments in my library?’
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“The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed
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nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise
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man had entrusted to him.
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“‘Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,’ said the
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wise man. ‘You cannot trust a man if you don’t know his house.’
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“Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his
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exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art
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on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all
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around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which
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everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he
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related in detail everything he had seen.
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“‘But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?’ asked the
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wise man.
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“Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was
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gone.
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</p>
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<div>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 13</h5>
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<a href="alchemist12.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
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<a href="alchemist14.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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</div>
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</div>
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<!-- script -->
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<script src="script.js"></script>
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</body>
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</html>

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