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Merge branch 'main' of https://github.com/J0rgeR1vas/books
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Rivas-Jorge committed Feb 22, 2023
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89 changes: 89 additions & 0 deletions alchemist15.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">
But he didn’t need to worry about that right now. What he had
to be concerned about was his treasure, and how he was going to go
about getting it. The sale of his sheep had left him with enough
money in his pouch, and the boy knew that in money there was
magic; whoever has money is never really alone. Before long, maybe
in just a few days, he would be at the Pyramids. An old man, with a
breastplate of gold, wouldn’t have lied just to acquire six sheep.
The old man had spoken about signs and omens, and, as the boy
was crossing the strait, he had thought about omens. Yes, the old
man had known what he was talking about: during the time the boy
had spent in the fields of Andalusia, he had become used to learning
which path he should take by observing the ground and the sky. He
had discovered that the presence of a certain bird meant that a
snake was nearby, and that a certain shrub was a sign that there
was water in the area. The sheep had taught him that.
If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he
thought, and that made him feel better. The tea seemed less bitter.
“Who are you?” he heard a voice ask him in Spanish.
The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and
someone had appeared.
“How come you speak Spanish?” he asked. The new arrival was a
young man in Western dress, but the color of his skin suggested he
was from this city. He was about the same age and height as the boy.
“Almost everyone here speaks Spanish. We’re only two hours
from Spain.”
“Sit down, and let me treat you to something,” said the boy. “And
ask for a glass of wine for me. I hate this tea.”
“There is no wine in this country,” the young man said. “The
religion here forbids it.”
The boy told him then that he needed to get to the Pyramids. He
almost began to tell about his treasure, but decided not to do so. If
he did, it was possible that the Arab would want a part of it as
payment for taking him there. He remembered what the old man
had said about offering something you didn’t even have yet.
“I’d like you to take me there if you can. I can pay you to serve as
my guide.”
“Do you have any idea how to get there?” the newcomer asked.
The boy noticed that the owner of the bar stood nearby,
listening attentively to their conversation. He felt uneasy at the
man’s presence. But he had found a guide, and didn’t want to miss
out on an opportunity.
“You have to cross the entire Sahara desert,” said the young man.
“And to do that, you need money. I need to know whether you have
enough.”
The boy thought it a strange question. But he trusted in the old
man, who had said that, when you really want something, the
universe always conspires in your favor.
He took his money from his pouch and showed it to the young
man. The owner of the bar came over and looked, as well. The two
men exchanged some words in Arabic, and the bar owner seemed
irritated.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the new arrival. “He wants us to
leave.”
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 15</h5>
<a href="alchemist14.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist16.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
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</div>

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91 changes: 91 additions & 0 deletions alchemist16.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">
The boy was relieved. He got up to pay the bill, but the owner
grabbed him and began to speak to him in an angry stream of
words. The boy was strong, and wanted to retaliate, but he was in a
foreign country. His new friend pushed the owner aside, and pulled
the boy outside with him. “He wanted your money,” he said.
“Tangier is not like the rest of Africa. This is a port, and every port
has its thieves.”
The boy trusted his new friend. He had helped him out in a
dangerous situation. He took out his money and counted it.
“We could get to the Pyramids by tomorrow,” said the other,
taking the money. “But I have to buy two camels.”
They walked together through the narrow streets of Tangier.
Everywhere there were stalls with items for sale. They reached the
center of a large plaza where the market was held. There were
thousands of people there, arguing, selling, and buying; vegetables
for sale amongst daggers, and carpets displayed alongside tobacco.
But the boy never took his eye off his new friend. After all, he had all
his money. He thought about asking him to give it back, but decided
that would be unfriendly. He knew nothing about the customs of the
strange land he was in.
“I’ll just watch him,” he said to himself. He knew he was stronger
than his friend.
Suddenly, there in the midst of all that confusion, he saw the
most beautiful sword he had ever seen. The scabbard was embossed
in silver, and the handle was black and encrusted with precious
stones. The boy promised himself that, when he returned from
Egypt, he would buy that sword.
“Ask the owner of that stall how much the sword costs,” he said
to his friend. Then he realized that he had been distracted for a few
moments, looking at the sword. His heart squeezed, as if his chest
had suddenly compressed it. He was afraid to look around, because
he knew what he would find. He continued to look at the beautiful
sword for a bit longer, until he summoned the courage to turn
around.
All around him was the market, with people coming and going,
shouting and buying, and the aroma of strange foods…but nowhere
could he find his new companion.
The boy wanted to believe that his friend had simply become
separated from him by accident. He decided to stay right there and
await his return. As he waited, a priest climbed to the top of a
nearby tower and began his chant; everyone in the market fell to
their knees, touched their foreheads to the ground, and took up the
chant. Then, like a colony of worker ants, they dismantled their
stalls and left.
The sun began its departure, as well. The boy watched it through
its trajectory for some time, until it was hidden behind the white
houses surrounding the plaza. He recalled that when the sun had
risen that morning, he was on another continent, still a shepherd
with sixty sheep, and looking forward to meeting with a girl. That
morning he had known everything that was going to happen to him
as he walked through the familiar fields. But now, as the sun began
to set, he was in a different country, a stranger in a strange land,
where he couldn’t even speak the language. He was no longer a
shepherd, and he had nothing, not even the money to return and
start everything over.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 16</h5>
<a href="alchemist15.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist17.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
</div>

</div>

<!-- script -->
<script src="script.js"></script>
</body>
</html>
84 changes: 84 additions & 0 deletions alchemist17.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">
All this happened between sunrise and sunset, the boy thought.
He was feeling sorry for himself, and lamenting the fact that his life
could have changed so suddenly and so drastically.
He was so ashamed that he wanted to cry. He had never even
wept in front of his own sheep. But the marketplace was empty, and
he was far from home, so he wept. He wept because God was unfair,
and because this was the way God repaid those who believed in
their dreams.
When I had my sheep, I was happy, and I made those around me
happy. People saw me coming and welcomed me, he thought. But
now I’m sad and alone. I’m going to become bitter and distrustful of
people because one person betrayed me. I’m going to hate those
who have found their treasure because I never found mine. And I’m
going to hold on to what little I have, because I’m too insignificant to
conquer the world.
He opened his pouch to see what was left of his possessions;
maybe there was a bit left of the sandwich he had eaten on the ship.
But all he found was the heavy book, his jacket, and the two stones
the old man had given him.
As he looked at the stones, he felt relieved for some reason. He
had exchanged six sheep for two precious stones that had been
taken from a gold breastplate. He could sell the stones and buy a
return ticket. But this time I’ll be smarter, the boy thought,
removing them from the pouch so he could put them in his pocket.
This was a port town, and the only truthful thing his friend had told
him was that port towns are full of thieves.
Now he understood why the owner of the bar had been so upset:
he was trying to tell him not to trust that man. “I’m like everyone
else—I see the world in terms of what I would like to see happen,
not what actually does.”
He ran his fingers slowly over the stones, sensing their
temperature and feeling their surfaces. They were his treasure. Just
handling them made him feel better. They reminded him of the old
man.
“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping
you to achieve it,” he had said.
The boy was trying to understand the truth of what the old man
had said. There he was in the empty marketplace, without a cent to
his name, and with not a sheep to guard through the night. But the
stones were proof that he had met with a king—a king who knew of
the boy’s past.
“They’re called Urim and Thummim, and they can help you to
read the omens.” The boy put the stones back in the pouch and
decided to do an experiment. The old man had said to ask very clear
questions, and to do that, the boy had to know what he wanted. So,
he asked if the old man’s blessing was still with him.
He took out one of the stones. It was “yes.”
“Am I going to find my treasure?” he asked.
</p>
<div>
<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 17</h5>
<a href="alchemist16.html" class="previous">&laquo; Previous</a>
<a href="alchemist18.html" class="next">Next &raquo;</a>
</div>

</div>

<!-- script -->
<script src="script.js"></script>
</body>
</html>

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