ALCHEMIST PAULO COELHO PDF ENGLISH

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to add one more, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It is the story of The Alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through. The Alchemist. Paulo Coelho. Translated by Alan R. and English geologists, German soldiers who were always well-heeled. In those days it had been. The Alchemist, is a best-seller book, with over millions copies sold. When internet started CLICK HERE Download The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho Ebook .


Alchemist Paulo Coelho Pdf English

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He drank a bit from the wine thatremained from his dinner of the night before, and he gathered his jacketcloser to his body. He knew that a few hours from now, with the sun at itszenith, the heat would be so great that he would not be able to lead hisflock across the fields.

It was the time of day when all of Spain slept duringthe summer. The heat lasted until nightfall, and all that time he had to carryhis jacket. But when he thought to complain about the burden of its weight,he remembered that, because he had the jacket, he had withstood the coldof the dawn. We have to be prepared for change, he thought, and he was grateful for thejacket's weight and warmth. The jacket had a purpose, and so did the boy. His purpose in life was totravel, and, after two years of walking the Andalusian terrain, he knew all thecities of the region.

He was planning, on this visit, to explain to the girl howit was that a simple shepherd knew how to read.

That he had attended aseminary until he was sixteen. His parents had wanted him to become apriest, and thereby a source of pride for a simple farm family. They workedhard just to have food and water, like the sheep. He had studied Latin,Spanish, and theology. But ever since he had been a child, he had wantedto know the world, and this was much more important to him than knowingGod and learning about man's sins.

One afternoon, on a visit to his family,he had summoned up the courage to tell his father that he didn't want tobecome a priest.

That he wanted to travel. They climb themountain to see the castle, and they wind up thinking that the past wasbetter than what we have now. They have blond hair, or dark skin, butbasically they're the same as the people who live right here.

The next day, he gave his son a pouch that heldthree ancient Spanish gold coins. I wanted them to be a part of yourinheritance. But use them to download your flock. Take to the fields, and somedayyou'll learn that our countryside is the best, and our women the mostbeautiful. The boy could see in his father's gaze adesire to be able, himself, to travel the world—a desire that was still alive,despite his father's having had to bury it, over dozens of years, under theburden of struggling for water to drink, food to eat, and the same place tosleep every night of his life.

The boythought back to that conversation with his father, and felt happy; he hadalready seen many castles and met many women but none the equal of theone who awaited him several days hence. He owned a jacket, a book thathe could trade for another, and a flock of sheep. But, most important, hewas able every day to live out his dream.

If he were to tire of the Andalusianfields, he could sell his sheep and go to sea. By the time he had hadenough of the sea, he would already have known other cities, other women,and other chances to be happy. I couldn't have found God in the seminary,he thought, as he looked at the sunrise. Whenever he could, he sought out a new road to travel. He had never beento that ruined church before, in spite of having traveled through those partsmany times.

The world was huge and inexhaustible; he had only to allow hissheep to set the route for a while, and he would discover other interestingthings. The problem is that they don't even realize that they're walking anew road every day. They don't see that the fields are new and the seasonschange. All they think about is food and water. Maybe we're all that way, the boy mused. Even me—I haven't thought ofother women since I met the merchant's daughter. Looking at the sun, hecalculated that he would reach Tarifa before midday.

There, he couldexchange his book for a thicker one, fill his wine bottle, shave, and have ahaircut; he had to prepare himself for his meeting with the girl, and he didn'twant to think about the possibility that some other shepherd, with a largerflock of sheep, had arrived there before him and asked for her hand.

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He had suddenly remembered that, in Tarifa, there was an old womanwho interpreted dreams. The room'sfurnishings consisted of a table, an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus,and two chairs. The woman sat down, and told him to be seated as well. Then she tookboth of his hands in hers, and began quietly to pray. It sounded like a Gypsy prayer. The boy had already had experience on theroad with Gypsies; they also traveled, but they had no flocks of sheep.

People said that Gypsies spent their lives tricking others. It was also saidthat they had a pact with the devil, and that they kidnapped children and,taking them away to their mysterious camps, made them their slaves. As achild, the boy had always been frightened to death that he would becaptured by Gypsies, and this childhood fear returned when the old womantook his hands in hers.

But she has the Sacred Heart of Jesus there, he thought, trying to reassurehimself. He didn't want his hand to begin trembling, showing the old womanthat he was fearful.

He recited an Our Father silently. The boy was becoming nervous. His hands began to tremble, and thewoman sensed it.

He quickly pulled his hands away. He thought for a moment that it would be better to pay herfee and leave without learning a thing, that he was giving too muchimportance to his recurrent dream. When he speaks in our language, Ican interpret what he has said.

But if he speaks in the language of the soul,it is only you who can understand. But, whichever it is, I'm going to chargeyou for the consultation. But he decided to take a chance. Idon't like people to do that, because the sheep are afraid of strangers. Butchildren always seem to be able to play with them without frightening them. I don't know why. I don't know how animals know the age of humanbeings. But she said nothing. Both times. Then she again took his hands andstudied them carefully.

He was going to be able to save thelittle money he had because of a dream about hidden treasure! Swear that you will give me one-tenth of your treasurein exchange for what I am going to tell you. The old woman asked him to swearagain while looking at the image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. That's why I feel that I deserve a part ofwhat you find.

There you will find a treasure that will make you a rich man. He didn't need to seek out the oldwoman for this! But then he remembered that he wasn't going to have topay anything. It's the simple things in lifethat are the most extraordinary; only wise men are able to understand them. And since I am not wise, I have had to learn other arts, such as the readingof palms.

I don't know how to turn them into reality. That'swhy I have to live off what my daughters provide me with. It wouldn't be the first time. So the boy was disappointed; he decided that he would never again believein dreams. He remembered that he had a number of things he had to takecare of: he went to the market for something to eat, he traded his book forone that was thicker, and he found a bench in the plaza where he couldsample the new wine he had bought. The day was hot, and the wine wasrefreshing.

The sheep were at the gates of the city, in a stable thatbelonged to a friend. The boy knew a lot of people in the city. That waswhat made traveling appeal to him—he always made new friends, and hedidn't need to spend all of his time with them. When someone sees thesame people every day, as had happened with him at the seminary, theywind up becoming a part of that person's life.

And then they want theperson to change. If someone isn't what others want them to be, the othersbecome angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other peopleshould lead their lives, but none about his or her own.

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He decided to wait until the sun had sunk a bit lower in the sky beforefollowing his flock back through the fields.

Three days from now, he wouldbe with the merchant's daughter. He started to read the book he had bought. On the very first page itdescribed a burial ceremony. And the names of the people involved werevery difficult to pronounce.

When he was finally able to concentrate on what he was reading, he likedthe book better; the burial was on a snowy day, and he welcomed thefeeling of being cold. As he read on, an old man sat down at his side andtried to strike up a conversation. Actually, he was thinking about shearing his sheep in front of themerchant's daughter, so that she could see that he was someone who wascapable of doing difficult things. He had already imagined the scene manytimes; every time, the girl became fascinated when he explained that thesheep had to be sheared from back to front.

He also tried to remembersome good stories to relate as he sheared the sheep. Most of them he hadread in books, but he would tell them as if they were from his personalexperience.

She would never know the difference, because she didn't knowhow to read. Meanwhile, the old man persisted in his attempt to strike up a conversation. He said that he was tired and thirsty, and asked if he might have a sip ofthe boy's wine. The boy offered his bottle, hoping that the old man wouldleave him alone. But the old man wanted to talk, and he asked the boy what book he wasreading. The boy was tempted to be rude, and move to another bench, buthis father had taught him to be respectful of the elderly.

So he held out thebook to the man—for two reasons: first, that he, himself, wasn't sure how topronounce the title; and second, that if the old man didn't know how toread, he would probably feel ashamed and decide of his own accord tochange benches. The old man knew how to read, and had alreadyread the book. And if the book was irritating, as the old man had said, theboy still had time to change it for another.

And it ends up saying that everyone believes the world'sgreatest lie. That's the world'sgreatest lie. The old man,meanwhile, was leafing through the book, without seeming to want to returnit at all. The boy noticed that the man's clothing was strange. He looked likean Arab, which was not unusual in those parts. Africa was only a few hoursfrom Tarifa; one had only to cross the narrow straits by boat. Arabs oftenappeared in the city, shopping and chanting their strange prayers severaltimes a day.

The Best of Paulo Coelho

That's where I was born. He looked at the people in the plaza for awhile; they were coming and going, and all of them seemed to be verybusy. But he knew that Salem wasn't in Andalusia. If it were, hewould already have heard of it. Sometimes it's better to be withthe sheep, who don't say anything. They tell their incredible stories at the time when you want to hearthem. But when you're talking to people, they say some things that are sostrange that you don't know how to continue the conversation.

He could see that the old man wanted to knowmore about his life. I can't help you if you feel you've gotenough sheep. He wasn't asking for help. It was the old manwho had asked for a drink of his wine, and had started the conversation. The old woman hadn't charged him anything, but the old man—maybe hewas her husband—was going to find a way to get much more money inexchange for information about something that didn't even exist.

The oldman was probably a Gypsy, too. But before the boy could say anything, the old man leaned over, picked upa stick, and began to write in the sand of the plaza. Something brightreflected from his chest with such intensity that the boy was momentarilyblinded. With a movement that was too quick for someone his age, the mancovered whatever it was with his cape. When his vision returned to normal,the boy was able to read what the old man had written in the sand.

There, in the sand of the plaza of that small city, the boy read the names ofhis father and his mother and the name of the seminary he had attended.

He read the name of the merchant's daughter, which he hadn't even known,and he read things he had never told anyone. Everyone, when they areyoung, knows what their destiny is. They are not afraid to dream, and to yearn for everything they would like tosee happen to them in their lives. But, as time passes, a mysterious forcebegins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize theirdestiny.

It prepares your spirit and your will, because there isone great truth on this planet: whoever you are, or whatever it is that youdo, when you really want something, it's because that desire originated inthe soul of the universe. It's your mission on earth. Or marry the daughter of a textilemerchant? The Soul of the World is nourished bypeople's happiness. And also by unhappiness, envy, and jealousy. Torealize one's destiny is a person's only real obligation. All things are one. It was the old man who spoke first.

But hedecided first to download his bakery and put some money aside. When he's anold man, he's going to spend a month in Africa. He never realized thatpeople are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of. Bakers have homes, while shepherdssleep out in the open. Parents would rather see their children marry bakersthan shepherds. There was surely a baker in her town. The boy waited, and then interrupted the old man just as he himself hadbeen interrupted.

And you are at the pointwhere you're about to give it all up. Sometimes I appear in the form of a solution, or a good idea. At othertimes, at a crucial moment, I make it easier for things to happen.

There areother things I do, too, but most of the time people don't realize I've donethem. The miner hadabandoned everything to go mining for emeralds. For five years he hadbeen working a certain river, and had examined hundreds of thousands ofstones looking for an emerald. The miner was about to give it all up, right atthe point when, if he were to examine just one more stone—just one more—he would find his emerald.

Since the miner had sacrificed everything to hisdestiny, the old man decided to become involved. He transformed himselfinto a stone that rolled up to the miner's foot. The miner, with all the angerand frustration of his five fruitless years, picked up the stone and threw itaside.

But he had thrown it with such force that it broke the stone it fellupon, and there, embedded in the broken stone, was the most beautifulemerald in the world. But that's the way it is. This is what the Warriors of the Light try to teach. And I will tellyou how to find the hidden treasure.

The Alchemist

Good afternoon. He was tense and upset, because he knew that the old manwas right. He went over to the bakery and bought a loaf of bread, thinkingabout whether or not he should tell the baker what the old man had saidabout him.

Sometimes it's better to leave things as they are, he thought tohimself, and decided to say nothing. If he were to say anything, the bakerwould spend three days thinking about giving it all up, even though he hadgotten used to the way things were. The boy could certainly resist causingthat kind of anxiety for the baker. So he began to wander through the city,and found himself at the gates.

There was a small building there, with awindow at which people bought tickets to Africa. And he knew that Egyptwas in Africa. If he sold just one of hissheep, he'd have enough to get to the other shore of the strait.

The ideafrightened him. In two years he hadlearned everything about shepherding: he knew how to shear sheep, how tocare for pregnant ewes, and how to protect the sheep from wolves.

Heknew all the fields and pastures of Andalusia. And he knew what was thefair price for every one of his animals. He decided to return to his friend's stable by the longest route possible. Ashe walked past the city's castle, he interrupted his return, and climbed thestone ramp that led to the top of the wall. From there, he could see Africa inthe distance. Someone had once told him that it was from there that theMoors had come, to occupy all of Spain.

He could see almost the entire city from where he sat, including the plazawhere he had talked with the old man. Curse the moment I met that oldman, he thought. He had come to the town only to find a woman who couldinterpret his dream. Neither the woman nor the old man were at allimpressed by the fact that he was a shepherd. They were solitary individualswho no longer believed in things, and didn't understand that shepherdsbecome attached to their sheep.

He knew everything about each member ofhis flock: he knew which ones were lame, which one was to give birth twomonths from now, and which were the laziest. He knew how to shear them,and how to slaughter them. If he ever decided to leave them, they wouldsuffer. The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it the levanter,because on it the Moors had come from the Levant at the eastern end ofthe Mediterranean.

The levanter increased in intensity. Here I am, between my flock and mytreasure, the boy thought. He had to choose between something he hadbecome accustomed to and something he wanted to have. There was alsothe merchant's daughter, but she wasn't as important as his flock, becauseshe didn't depend on him.

Maybe she didn't even remember him. He wassure that it made no difference to her on which day he appeared: for her,every day was the same, and when each day is the same as the next, it'sbecause people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their livesevery day that the sun rises. I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They have gottenused to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get used to my notbeing there, too, the boy thought.

From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued to comeand go from the baker's shop. A young couple sat on the bench where hehad talked with the old man, and they kissed. Thatwind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also brought the smell of thedesert and of veiled women. It had brought with it the sweat and the dreamsof men who had once left to search for the unknown, and for gold andadventure—and for the Pyramids.

The boy felt jealous of the freedom of thewind, and saw that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing tohold him back except himself. The sheep, the merchant's daughter, and thefields of Andalusia were only steps along the way to his destiny. The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six sheep withhim.

He said that he had always dreamed of being a shepherd, andthat it was a good omen. When you play cards the first time, you are almost sure to win. Beginner's luck.

The boy explained that it wasn't important, since that sheep was themost intelligent of the flock, and produced the most wool. The old woman had said the same thing. But shehadn't charged him anything. God hasprepared a path for everyone to follow.

You just have to read the omensthat he left for you. He remembered something his grandfather had once toldhim: that butterflies were a good omen. Like crickets, and like expectations;like lizards and four-leaf clovers.

These are good omens. Theold man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with precious stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on the previous day. He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters withthieves. The black signifies 'yes,' and the white 'no. Always ask anobjective question. The treasure is at thePyramids; that you already knew. But I had to insist on the payment of sixsheep because I helped you to make your decision.

From then on, he would make his owndecisions. And don't forget the language of omens. And, above all, don't forgetto follow your destiny through to its conclusion. The lad wandered through the desert forforty days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. Itwas there that the wise man lived. The wise man conversed with everyone, andthe boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given theman's attention.

He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return intwo hours. After two hours, he returned to theroom where the wise man was. Did you see the garden that it took the mastergardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in mylibrary? His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man hadentrusted to him. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of theflowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected.

Uponreturning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen. He had understood the story the old king hadtold him. A shepherd may like to travel, but he should never forget about hissheep.

The old man looked at the boy and, with his hands held together, madeseveral strange gestures over the boy's head. Then, taking his sheep, hewalked away. Fromatop its walls, one can catch a glimpse of Africa. Melchizedek, the king ofSalem, sat on the wall of the fort that afternoon, and felt the levanterblowing in his face. The sheep fidgeted nearby, uneasy with their newowner and excited by so much change.

All they wanted was food and water. Melchizedek watched a small ship that was plowing its way out of the port. That was his work. The gods should not have desires, because they don't have destinies. Butthe king of Salem hoped desperately that the boy would be successful. It's too bad that he's quickly going to forget my name, he thought.

I shouldhave repeated it for him. Then when he spoke about me he would say that Iam Melchizedek, the king of Salem. But an old king sometimes has totake some pride in himself. He was sitting in a bar very much like the other bars he had seen along thenarrow streets of Tangier.

Some men were smoking from a gigantic pipethat they passed from one to the other. In just a few hours he had seen menwalking hand in hand, women with their faces covered, and priests thatclimbed to the tops of towers and chanted—as everyone about him went totheir knees and placed their foreheads on the ground. As a child in church, he hadalways looked at the image of Saint Santiago Matamoros on his white horse,his sword unsheathed, and figures such as these kneeling at his feet.

Theboy felt ill and terribly alone. The infidels had an evil look about them. Besides this, in the rush of his travels he had forgotten a detail, just onedetail, which could keep him from his treasure for a long time: only Arabicwas spoken in this country. The owner of the bar approached him, and the boy pointed to a drink thathad been served at the next table.

It turned out to be a bitter tea. The boypreferred wine. But he didn't need to worry about that right now.

What he had to beconcerned about was his treasure, and how he was going to go aboutgetting it. The sale of his sheep had left him with enough money in hispouch, and the boy knew that in money there was magic; whoever hasmoney is never really alone.

Before long, maybe in just a few days, hewould be at the Pyramids. An old man, with a breastplate of gold, wouldn'thave lied just to acquire six sheep. The old man had spoken about signs and omens, and, as the boy wascrossing the strait, he had thought about omens.

He had discovered that thepresence of a certain bird meant that a snake was nearby, and that acertain shrub was a sign that there was water in the area. The sheep hadtaught him that. If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he thought, and thatmade him feel better. The tea seemed less bitter. The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and someone hadappeared.

The new arrival was a youngman in Western dress, but the color of his skin suggested he was from thiscity. He was about the same age and height as the boy. We're only two hours from Spain. I hate this tea. He almostbegan to tell about his treasure, but decided not to do so. If he did, it waspossible that the Arab would want a part of it as payment for taking himthere. He remembered what the old man had said about offering somethingyou didn't even have yet.

I can pay you to serve as myguide.

The Alchemist (1988)

The boy noticed that the owner of the bar stood nearby, listening attentivelyto their conversation. He felt uneasy at the man's presence. But he hadfound a guide, and didn't want to miss out on an opportunity.

I need to know whether you have enough. But he trusted in the old man, whohad said that, when you really want something, the universe alwaysconspires in your favor. Theowner of the bar came over and looked, as well. The two men exchangedsome words in Arabic, and the bar owner seemed irritated.

He got up to pay the bill, but the owner grabbed himand began to speak to him in an angry stream of words. The boy wasstrong, and wanted to retaliate, but he was in a foreign country. His newfriend pushed the owner aside, and pulled the boy outside with him.

This is aport, and every port has its thieves. He had helped him out in a dangeroussituation. He took out his money and counted it. Everywherethere were stalls with items for sale. They reached the center of a largeplaza where the market was held.

There were thousands of people there,arguing, selling, and downloading; vegetables for sale amongst daggers, andcarpets displayed alongside tobacco. But the boy never took his eye off hisnew friend. After all, he had all his money. He thought about asking him togive it back, but decided that would be unfriendly. He knew nothing aboutthe customs of the strange land he was in. He knew he was stronger than hisfriend. Suddenly, there in the midst of all that confusion, he saw the most beautifulsword he had ever seen.

The scabbard was embossed in silver, and thehandle was black and encrusted with precious stones. The boy promisedhimself that, when he returned from Egypt, he would download that sword. Then he realized that he had been distracted for a few moments,looking at the sword. His heart squeezed, as if his chest had suddenlycompressed it. He was afraid to look around, because he knew what hewould find. He continued to look at the beautiful sword for a bit longer, untilhe summoned the courage to turn around.

All around him was the market, with people coming and going, shouting anddownloading, and the aroma of strange foods… but nowhere could he find hisnew companion. 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 hischant; everyone in the market fell to their knees, touched their foreheads tothe ground, and took up the chant. Then, like a colony of worker ants, theydismantled their stalls and left.

The sun began its departure, as well. The boy watched it through itstrajectory for some time, until it was hidden behind the white housessurrounding the plaza. He recalled that when the sun had risen thatmorning, he was on another continent, still a shepherd with sixty sheep, andlooking forward to meeting with a girl.

That morning he had knowneverything that was going to happen to him as he walked through thefamiliar fields.

But now, as the sun began to set, he was in a differentcountry, a stranger in a strange land, where he couldn't even speak thelanguage. He was no longer a shepherd, and he had nothing, not even themoney to return and start everything over. All this happened between sunrise and sunset, the boy thought. He wasfeeling sorry for himself, and lamenting the fact that his life could havechanged so suddenly and so drastically.

He was so ashamed that he wanted to cry. He had never even wept in frontof his own sheep. Keep getting back up.

Focus on your own journey. Always take action. At the oasis, Santiago receives an omen of an impending attack. After Santiago defends the oasis, the alchemist agrees to take him to the treasure. At last, Santiago reaches the pyramids. A group of men happens upon him and beats him savagely when they find no treasure.

One of the men tells Santiago about a dream he had about a ruined church in Spain. Santiago realizes the treasure has been buried there all along. He returns home to find the treasure buried in the church where he used to sleep with his flock. Reviews Review Policy. View details. Flag as inappropriate. Privacy Policy. See more. The Alchemist PDF. The alchemist paulo coelho. The alchemist pdf is the best book seller in the world by paulo coelho.

Novels of Sherlock Holmes - Ebook. Charles Dickens Books Collection. Alif Innovative Solution. The Aliya - English Novel. Atish Developer.He thought for a moment that it would be better to pay herfee and leave without learning a thing, that he was giving too muchimportance to his recurrent dream. He had done this for years, and knew the schedule of everyonewho passed. The publishing house decided to not to reprint it. And they had understood each other perfectly well.

If he were to say anything, the bakerwould spend three days thinking about giving it all up, even though he hadgotten used to the way things were. It was because of that girl, he for the first time experience the desire to live in one place forever.

He recited an Our Father silently. After all, he had all his money. It's easy, andyet I've never done it before, he thought.

TONIE from Lubbock
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