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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 WENT TO HIS ROOM AND PACKED HIS BELONGINGS. They filled three | ||
| sacks. As he was leaving, he saw, in the corner of the room, his old | ||
| shepherd’s pouch. It was bunched up, and he had hardly thought of | ||
| it for a long time. As he took his jacket out of the pouch, thinking to | ||
| give it to someone in the street, the two stones fell to the floor. Urim | ||
| and Thummim. | ||
| It made the boy think of the old king, and it startled him to | ||
| realize how long it had been since he had thought of him. For nearly | ||
| a year, he had been working incessantly, thinking only of putting | ||
| aside enough money so that he could return to Spain with pride. | ||
| “Never stop dreaming,” the old king had said. “Follow the | ||
| omens.” | ||
| The boy picked up Urim and Thummim, and, once again, had the | ||
| strange sensation that the old king was nearby. He had worked hard | ||
| for a year, and the omens were that it was time to go. | ||
| I’m going to go back to doing just what I did before, the boy | ||
| thought. Even though the sheep didn’t teach me to speak Arabic. | ||
| But the sheep had taught him something even more important: | ||
| that there was a language in the world that everyone understood, a | ||
| language the boy had used throughout the time that he was trying | ||
| to improve things at the shop. It was the language of enthusiasm, of | ||
| things accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search | ||
| for something believed in and desired. Tangier was no longer a | ||
| strange city, and he felt that, just as he had conquered this place, he | ||
| could conquer the world. | ||
| “When you want something, all the universe conspires to help | ||
| you achieve it,” the old king had said. | ||
| But the old king hadn’t said anything about being robbed, or | ||
| about endless deserts, or about people who know what their | ||
| dreams are but don’t want to realize them. The old king hadn’t told | ||
| him that the Pyramids were just a pile of stones, or that anyone | ||
| could build one in his backyard. And he had forgotten to mention | ||
| that, when you have enough money to buy a flock larger than the | ||
| one you had before, you should buy it. | ||
| The boy picked up his pouch and put it with his other things. He | ||
| went down the stairs and found the merchant waiting on a foreign | ||
| couple, while two other customers walked about the shop, drinking | ||
| tea from crystal glasses. It was more activity than usual for this time | ||
| of the morning. From where he stood, he saw for the first time that | ||
| the old merchant’s hair was very much like the hair of the old king. | ||
| He remembered the smile of the candy seller, on his first day in | ||
| Tangier, when he had nothing to eat and nowhere to go—that smile | ||
| had also been like the old king’s smile. | ||
| It’s almost as if he had been here and left his mark, he thought. | ||
| And yet, none of these people has ever met the old king. On the | ||
| other hand, he said that he always appeared to help those who are | ||
| trying to realize their Personal Legend. | ||
| He left without saying good-bye to the crystal merchant. He | ||
| didn’t want to cry with the other people there. He was going to miss | ||
| the place and all the good things he had learned. He was more | ||
| confident in himself, though, and felt as though he could conquer | ||
| the world. | ||
| “But I’m going back to the fields that I know, to take care of my | ||
| flock again.” He said that to himself with certainty, but he was no | ||
| longer happy with his decision. He had worked for an entire year to | ||
| make a dream come true, and that dream, minute by minute, was | ||
| becoming less important. Maybe because that wasn’t really his | ||
| dream. | ||
| Who knows…maybe it’s better to be like the crystal merchant: | ||
| never go to Mecca, and just go through life wanting to do so, he | ||
| thought, again trying to convince himself. But as he held Urim and | ||
| Thummim in his hand, they had transmitted to him the strength and | ||
| will of the old king. By coincidence—or maybe it was an omen, the | ||
| boy thought—he came to the bar he had entered on his first day | ||
| there. The thief wasn’t there, and the owner brought him a cup of | ||
| tea. | ||
| </p> | ||
| <div> | ||
| <h5 class="pageNumber">Page 26</h5> | ||
| <a href="alchemist25.html" class="previous">« Previous</a> | ||
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