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| <!DOCTYPE html> | ||
| <html lang="en"> | ||
| <head> | ||
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| <meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="IE=edge"> | ||
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| <title>the alchemist</title> | ||
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| </head> | ||
| <body> | ||
| <div class="container" > | ||
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| <a href="index.html"><button class="home-button">Home</button></a> | ||
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| </div> | ||
| <h6>Author</h6> | ||
| <h1>Paulo Coelho</h1> | ||
| <h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6> | ||
| <p id="paragraph"> | ||
| “Should I understand the Emerald Tablet?” the boy asked. | ||
| “Perhaps, if you were in a laboratory of alchemy, this would be | ||
| the right time to study the best way to understand the Emerald | ||
| Tablet. But you are in the desert. So immerse yourself in it. The | ||
| desert will give you an understanding of the world; in fact, anything | ||
| on the face of the earth will do that. You don’t even have to | ||
| understand the desert: all you have to do is contemplate a simple | ||
| grain of sand, and you will see in it all the marvels of creation.” | ||
| “How do I immerse myself in the desert?” | ||
| “Listen to your heart. It knows all things, because it came from | ||
| the Soul of the World, and it will one day return there.” | ||
| THEY CROSSED THE DESERT FOR ANOTHER TWO DAYS IN silence. The | ||
| alchemist had become much more cautious, because they were | ||
| approaching the area where the most violent battles were being | ||
| waged. As they moved along, the boy tried to listen to his heart. | ||
| It was not easy to do; in earlier times, his heart had always been | ||
| ready to tell its story, but lately that wasn’t true. There had been | ||
| times when his heart spent hours telling of its sadness, and at other | ||
| times it became so emotional over the desert sunrise that the boy | ||
| had to hide his tears. His heart beat fastest when it spoke to the boy | ||
| of treasure, and more slowly when the boy stared entranced at the | ||
| endless horizons of the desert. But his heart was never quiet, even | ||
| when the boy and the alchemist had fallen into silence. | ||
| “Why do we have to listen to our hearts?” the boy asked, when | ||
| they had made camp that day. | ||
| “Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your | ||
| treasure.” | ||
| “But my heart is agitated,” the boy said. “It has its dreams, it gets | ||
| emotional, and it’s become passionate over a woman of the desert. | ||
| It asks things of me, and it keeps me from sleeping many nights, | ||
| when I’m thinking about her.” | ||
| “Well, that’s good. Your heart is alive. Keep listening to what it | ||
| has to say.” | ||
| During the next three days, the two travelers passed by a | ||
| number of armed tribesmen, and saw others on the horizon. The | ||
| boy’s heart began to speak of fear. It told him stories it had heard | ||
| from the Soul of the World, stories of men who sought to find their | ||
| treasure and never succeeded. Sometimes it frightened the boy with | ||
| the idea that he might not find his treasure, or that he might die | ||
| there in the desert. At other times, it told the boy that it was | ||
| satisfied: it had found love and riches. | ||
| “My heart is a traitor,” the boy said to the alchemist, when they | ||
| had paused to rest the horses. “It doesn’t want me to go on.” | ||
| “That makes sense,” the alchemist answered. “Naturally it’s | ||
| afraid that, in pursuing your dream, you might lose everything | ||
| you’ve won.” | ||
| “Well, then, why should I listen to my heart?” | ||
| “Because you will never again be able to keep it quiet. Even if | ||
| you pretend not to have heard what it tells you, it will always be | ||
| there inside you, repeating to you what you’re thinking about life | ||
| and about the world.” | ||
| “You mean I should listen, even if it’s treasonous?” | ||
| “Treason is a blow that comes unexpectedly. If you know your | ||
| heart well, it will never be able to do that to you. Because you’ll | ||
| know its dreams and wishes, and will know how to deal with them. | ||
| “You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it’s better | ||
| to listen to what it has to say. That way, you’ll never have to fear an | ||
| unanticipated blow.” | ||
| The boy continued to listen to his heart as they crossed the | ||
| desert. He came to understand its dodges and tricks, and to accept it | ||
| as it was. He lost his fear, and forgot about his need to go back to the | ||
| oasis, because, one afternoon, his heart told him that it was happy. | ||
| “Even though I complain sometimes,” it said, “it’s because I’m the | ||
| heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are | ||
| afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel | ||
| that they don’t deserve them, or that they’ll be unable to achieve | ||
| them. We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones | ||
| who go away forever, or of moments that could have been good but | ||
| weren’t, or of treasures that might have been found but were | ||
| forever hidden in the sands. Because, when these things happen, we | ||
| suffer terribly.” | ||
| “My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,” the boy told the | ||
| alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky. | ||
| “Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the | ||
| suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in | ||
| search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a | ||
| second’s encounter with God and with eternity.” | ||
| “Every second of the search is an encounter with God,” the boy | ||
| told his heart. “When I have been truly searching for my treasure, | ||
| every day has been luminous, because I’ve known that every hour | ||
| was a part of the dream that I would find it. When I have been truly | ||
| searching for my treasure, I’ve discovered things along the way that | ||
| I never would have seen had I not had the courage to try things that | ||
| seemed impossible for a shepherd to achieve.” | ||
| </p> | ||
| <div> | ||
| <h5 class="pageNumber">Page 50</h5> | ||
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