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Rivas-Jorge authored Mar 2, 2023
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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 can always go back to being a shepherd, the boy thought. I
learned how to care for sheep, and I haven’t forgotten how that’s
done. But maybe I’ll never have another chance to get to the
Pyramids in Egypt. The old man wore a breastplate of gold, and he
knew about my past. He really was a king, a wise king.
The hills of Andalusia were only two hours away, but there was
an entire desert between him and the Pyramids. Yet the boy felt that
there was another way to regard his situation: he was actually two
hours closer to his treasure…the fact that the two hours had
stretched into an entire year didn’t matter.
I know why I want to get back to my flock, he thought. I
understand sheep; they’re no longer a problem, and they can be
good friends. On the other hand, I don’t know if the desert can be a
friend, and it’s in the desert that I have to search for my treasure. If I
don’t find it, I can always go home. I finally have enough money, and
all the time I need. Why not?
He suddenly felt tremendously happy. He could always go back
to being a shepherd. He could always become a crystal salesman
again. Maybe the world had other hidden treasures, but he had a
dream, and he had met with a king. That doesn’t happen to just
anyone!
He was planning as he left the bar. He had remembered that one
of the crystal merchant’s suppliers transported his crystal by means
of caravans that crossed the desert. He held Urim and Thummim in
his hand; because of those two stones, he was once again on the way
to his treasure.
“I am always nearby, when someone wants to realize their
Personal Legend,” the old king had told him.
What could it cost to go over to the supplier’s warehouse and
find out if the Pyramids were really that far away?
THE ENGLISHMAN WAS SITTING ON A BENCH IN A STRUCTURE that smelled of
animals, sweat, and dust; it was part warehouse, part corral. I never
thought I’d end up in a place like this, he thought, as he leafed
through the pages of a chemical journal. Ten years at the university,
and here I am in a corral.
But he had to move on. He believed in omens. All his life and all
his studies were aimed at finding the one true language of the
universe. First he had studied Esperanto, then the world’s religions,
and now it was alchemy. He knew how to speak Esperanto, he
understood all the major religions well, but he wasn’t yet an
alchemist. He had unraveled the truths behind important questions,
but his studies had taken him to a point beyond which he could not
seem to go. He had tried in vain to establish a relationship with an
alchemist. But the alchemists were strange people, who thought
only about themselves, and almost always refused to help him. Who
knows, maybe they had failed to discover the secret of the Master
Work—the Philosopher’s Stone—and for this reason kept their
knowledge to themselves.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 27</h5>
<a href="alchemist26.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist28.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
</div>

</div>

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