...The Alchemist Paulo Coelho Translated by Alan R. Clarke. Published 1992. ISBN 0-7225-3293-8. PART ONE The boy's name was Santiago. Dusk was falling as the boy arrived with his herd at an abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous sycamore had grown on the spot where the sacristy had once stood. He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night. There were no wolves in the region, but once an animal had strayed during the night, and the boy had had to spend the entire next day searching for it. He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker books: they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows. It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see the stars through the halfdestroyed roof. I wanted to sleep a little longer, he thought. He had had the same dream that night as a week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended. He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his animals also began to stir. It was as if some mysterious energy bound his life to that of the sheep, with whom he had spent the past two years, leading them through the countryside in search of food and water. "They...
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...The Alchemist Paulo Coelho Translated by Alan R. Clarke. Published 1992. ISBN 0-7225-3293-8. PART ONE The boy's name was Santiago. Dusk was falling as the boy arrived with his herd at an abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous sycamore had grown on the spot where the sacristy had once stood. He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night. There were no wolves in the region, but once an animal had strayed during the night, and the boy had had to spend the entire next day searching for it. He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker books: they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows. It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see the stars through the halfdestroyed roof. I wanted to sleep a little longer, he thought. He had had the same dream that night as a week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended. He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his animals also began to stir. It was as if some mysterious energy bound his life to that of the sheep, with whom he had spent the past two years, leading them through the countryside in search of food and water. "They...
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...Sand... I could almost tell you exactly how many grains lay in this desert. The days are long and hot, and the nights are longer and cold. It’s not a mistake that I am here, I chose to live this way. My name is Gabriel, I am twenty-eight years old. The Wahiba Sands became my home five weeks ago.... I used to be wealthy, with a family, I even owned the largest law firm in the united states. I used to be happy, and filled to the breaking points with love, and life. Until my company that I spent every penny, and every ounce of me on, fell under. My deep black hair began to turn a grey color. We started losing cases, and with a rising rate of failure came the rising debt. The company was going to crash, and I knew. A few months later, the bank came around to take the firm out of my hands. I made a horrible decision, I went to the bank that all of the pension money was stored. I emptied all of the accounts, and carried the money out of the bank in bags. As I was leaving I called my wife, and told her and my son Adrian to pack their things and get ready to leave the country, and that I would explain when I got home. I pull into the driveway, and see my wife standing outside the house. Frantically I told her what just happened. “Gabriel what on earth are you trying to do?!” she exclaimed. “Please just get in the car, I don’t have time. I need to leave, if you wait any longer I’ll have to leave without you and Adrian.” I proposed. She stood, unmoved, and with an unchanged mind...
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...If deserts _have_ a fault (which their present biographer is far from admitting), that fault may doubtless be found in the fact that their scenery as a rule tends to be just a trifle monotonous. Though fine in themselves, they lack variety. To be sure, very few of the deserts of real life possess that absolute flatness, sandiness and sameness, which characterises the familiar desert of the poet and of the annual exhibitions--a desert all level yellow expanse, most bilious in its colouring, and relieved by but four allowable academy properties, a palm-tree, a camel, a sphinx, and a pyramid. For foreground, throw in a sheikh in appropriate drapery; for background, a sky-line and a bleaching skeleton; stir and mix, and your picture is finished. Most practical deserts one comes across in travelling, however, are a great deal less simple and theatrical than that; rock preponderates over sand in their composition, and inequalities of surface are often the rule rather than the exception. There is reason to believe, indeed, that the artistic conception of the common or Burlington House desert has been unduly influenced for evil by the accessibility and the poetic adjuncts of the Egyptian sand-waste, which, being situated in a great alluvial river valley is really flat, and, being the most familiar, has therefore distorted to its own shape the mental picture of all its kind elsewhere. But most deserts of actual nature are not all flat, nor all sandy; they present a considerable diversity...
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...Translated by Alan R. Clarke. Published 1992. ISBN 0-7225-3293-8. = CONTENTS = Part One Part Two Epilogue PART ONE The boy's name was Santiago. Dusk was falling as the boy arrived with his herd at an abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous sycamore had grown on the spot where the sacristy had once stood. He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night. There were no wolves in the region, but once an animal had strayed during the night, and the boy had had to spend the entire next day searching for it. He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker books: they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows. It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see the stars through the half-destroyed roof. Paulo Coelho - The Alchemist Page 2 / 94 I wanted to sleep a little longer, he thought. He had had the same dream that night as a week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended. He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his animals also began to stir. It was as if some mysterious energy bound his life to that of the sheep, with whom he had spent the...
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...the more familiar corporate rictuses of Ronald McDonald and Colonel Sanders. This man has sold Dubai to the world as the city of One Thousand and One Arabian Lights, a Shangri-La in the Middle East insulated from the dust-storms blasting across the region. He dominates the Manhattan-manqué skyline, beaming out from row after row of glass pyramids and hotels smelted into the shape of piles of golden coins. And there he stands on the tallest building in the world – a skinny spike, jabbing farther into the sky than any other human construction in history. But something has flickered in Sheikh Mohammed's smile. The ubiquitous cranes have paused on the skyline, as if stuck in time. There are countless buildings half-finished, seemingly abandoned. In the swankiest new constructions – like the vast Atlantis hotel, a giant pink castle built in 1,000 days for $1.5bn on its own artificial island – where rainwater is leaking from the ceilings and the tiles are falling off the roof. This Neverland was built on the Never-Never – and now the cracks are beginning to show. Suddenly it looks less like Manhattan in the sun than Iceland in the desert. Once the manic burst of building has stopped and the whirlwind has slowed, the secrets of Dubai are slowly seeping out. This is a city built from nothing in just a few wild decades on credit and ecocide, suppression and slavery. Dubai is a living metal metaphor for the neo-liberal globalised world that may be crashing – at last – into history. I...
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...with the just the slightest wisp of a cloud in the distance. We hear the voice of a YOUNG MAN as he intones the words . . . YOUNG MAN (V.0.) In the beginning, there was the brilliant star of heaven in the bright desert sky . . . There is an incredibly loud Thoomp! like someone pulling their thumb out of a bottle. A flaming ball appears in the sky leaving a white vapor trail behind it as it plummets to Earth. The burning eyes of our narrator, the Young Man, look up into the sky and watch the descent of the flaming ball. 2 EXT.DESERT - DAY 2 Our view moves down from the sky to the blistering hot sands of the desert shimmering in the midday sun. The flaming bail disappears in the distance in a silent puff of dust. The wind blows away the dust and whistles across the barren expanse of desert. The Young Man’s eyes peer way into the distance at the rippling horizon. There is a black spot. It’s a person . . . The Young Man’s eyes widen. From the wasteland a figure appears. It is a man standing very straight with his chin thrust forward . . . He is DR. IVAN HOOD, D.O., a tall, well-built, 32-year-old man with sandy windblown hair. He wears the dirty white jumpsuit of an astronaut. On his breast is written "NASA, PROBE MISSION." Beside Dr. Hood is the mission leader, CAPTAIN CHARLES...
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...Christians, and the world has turned into chaos. It is apparent that Yeats believes that a Second Coming is at hand, and he spends the last half of the poem discussing what that Second Coming could look like. Turning and turning in the widening gyre (line 1) Yeats imagines the world in a cyclical sphere known a gyre (shape of a cone). In Yeats' note on the text, he states that "the end of an age, which always receives the revelation of the character of the next age, is represented by the coming of one gyre to its place of greatest expansion and of the other to that of its greatest contraction" (2036). Yeats believes that the two thousand years of Christianity will be coming to an end, and after a violent reversal a new age will take its place. The widening part of the gyre is supposed to connote anarchy, evil, and the loss of innocence. The falcon cannot hear the falconer; (2) The falconer in this analogy is most likely God (or Jesus), and the falcon is the follower (or devotee). Humanity can no longer hear the word of God, because it is drowned out by all of chaos of the widening gyre. A wild falcon can symbolize an unconverted Gentile; someone who has sinful thoughts, and does sinful things. A tame falcon (one who listens to the word of God) is a Christian convert. In the Egyptian culture, the falcon is used to represent sky deities (or in Christian terms, God). Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, (3-4) Everything will fall into...
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...An Exchange of Dreams A book review of “The Alchemist” Czarina Nadine M. Sanchez Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it” -Melchizedek Have you experienced holding on to a dream, a dream that serves as your passageway to achieving your Personal Legend? Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist focused on the concatenation of a boy’s journey in life that began as an unfinished dream which led shepherd Santiago, the boy, to his own Personal Legend. However in the first part of the story, it somehow did not correlate with the novel’s title. For it was only focused on the boys travel together with his flock of sheep. But then on the latter part of the novel, the essence of the title was revealed, for it introduced an important character in the novel who is the Alchemist. Aside from the title the author also used several instruments to abdicate the boy’s personal legend. And the most important instrument that he used is the boy’s dream. The boy’s dream inside an abandoned church where there was an enormous sycamore that grew where the sacristy was. The boy’s revelation of his dream to the interpreter goes like this: “I had the same dream twice; I was in the field with my sheep, when a child appeared and began to play with the animals. I don’t like people to do that, because the sheep are afraid of strangers. But children always seem to be able to play without frightening them. The child continued...
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...More times than not, the patient died, but they always assumed it was because the infection was too far gone. Or even that the Devil himself had a hunger for that person’s soul. Even during the time of the black plague outbreaks, smallpox, cholera and the many other ramped diseases of the dark ages, the bloodletting practice was incorporated. Even during the Salem witch trials this method was instilled as a form of torture to get confessions of witchcraft form the accused, and also to try to rid them of the evil blood received from the devil. The practice was thought to have died out with the knights, nobles, and the kingdoms of old, and destroyed along with the witches…or so we thought. Fast forward many centuries from the dark ages to the modern days of the cell phone, laptops, hybrid cars, online dating websites, and modern medicine, and we arrive in Boston, Massachusetts, in about mid-October of 2014.A new wave a murders has hit the city. To this date here have been nineteen of these ritualistic type killings. All in the fashion of the bloodletting practice. And my luck just so has it that it is in my city, in my jurisdiction, on my beat, and the chief...
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...1 In memory of Skip and Mary Dickinson For Quintin and Griffin And for Louise Dennys, with thanks ‘Most of you, I am sure, remember the tragic circumstances of the death of Geoffrey Clifton at Gilf Kebir, followed later by the disappearance of his wife, Katharine Clifton, which took place during the 1939 desert expedition in search of Zerzura. “I cannot begin this meeting tonight without referring very sympathetically to those tragic occurrences. “The lecture this evening ...” From the minutes of the Geographical Society meeting of November 194-, London I The Villa SHE STANDS UP in the garden where she has been working and looks into the distance. She has sensed a shift in the weather. There is another gust of wind, a buckle of noise in the air, and the tall cypresses sway. She turns and moves uphill towards the house, climbing over a low wall, feeling the first drops of rain on her bare arms. She crosses the loggia and quickly enters the house. In the kitchen she doesn’t pause but goes through it and climbs the stairs which are in darkness and then continues along the long hall, at the end of which is a wedge of light from an open door. She turns into the room which is another garden—this one made up of trees and bowers painted over its walls and ceiling. The man lies on the bed, his body exposed to the breeze, and he turns his head slowly towards her as she enters. Every four days she washes his black body, beginning at the destroyed feet. She wets a washcloth...
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...Lesson Plan in English (Reading) I. Objectives At the end of the lesson, the pupils are expected to: a. State the sequence of the story b. Identify the different seasons describe c. Appreciate the story read II. Subject Matter Topic: The Tiny Seed Reference: Reading Network, pages 103- 108 Author: Delia Hamoy Soroy Materials: Charts, pictures III. Procedure A. Preparation Teacher’s Activities Pupils’ Activities 1. Energizer I have here a song entitled “ Minicar “. I’ll sing it first then afterwards we will sing it together. The song goes like this. Minicar(2x) Beep(3x) the minicar Stop and go(3x), the minicar Camera (2x) Click (3x) the camera Smile and pose (3x) to the camera B. Motivation Form 3 groups. Each group should have 2 members to arrange the puzzle in front. The first group who can arrange the puzzle will get additional points in your quiz later. What picture is formed? The picture formed is a seed. Have you seen a seed? Yes Teacher! Can you describe the seed that you have seen? The seed that I have seen is rough. What can you say about their size? ...
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...Probably because my mom wanted me out of the house early I walk into the interrogation room. “How many shapes do you see? Which one is a circle? Can you write your name?” The woman asking is a wall. Her brain is almost as empty as MC Hammer’s bank account and her expressions, if shown, are as dry as the Sahara desert. I was so lucky to be assessed by her, I had the best time ever! I trudged through and by the end I was officially starting kindergarten. From this point on, I was fetus of the grade. One day I was walking through the halls, my freshman year of high schools, and I saw a flyer on the wall that said, “Club volleyball...sign up now!” This made my day, I went home and talked to my mom and with a lot of convincing, she finally...
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...thus most of her works were based on inspiration from the environment and natural landscape there. “O'Keeffe was one of the greatest American artists of the twentieth century. She took to making art at a young age and went to study at the Art Institute of Chicago in the early 1900s. Later, while living in New York, she studied with such artists as William Merritt Chase as a member of the Art Students League.” (Bio. (Biography.com)). O’Keeffe’s most famous works include Black Iris (1926), Oriental Poppies (1928), Black Cross, New Mexico (1929), and Cow's Skull with Calico Roses (1931), the work which this report shall focus on. She passed away on the 6th of March, 1986, at 98 years of age. Cow's Skull with Calico Roses: the Focus of this Report Figure 1: Georgia O'Keeffe. Cow's Skull with Calico Roses. 1931. Figure 1: Georgia O'Keeffe. Cow's Skull with Calico Roses. 1931. Introduction to the Artwork This painting is called Cow’s Skull with Calico Roses, and was painted by the artist Georgia O’Keeffe. It was completed in 1931 in New Mexico, where Georgia was inspired to paint it. This painting portrays the skull of a cow on layers of what appears to be canvas. The skull has two artificial roses made of calico in it; one in the left ear and one in the nose. I believe it is influenced by the culturally varying concept of death. It seems to be addressing the truth, simplicity, nature, and (to some extent) beauty of death. I can say this by looking at the fact that the skull has...
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...fully about imagery and the role of speakers. In the first section, Eliot conveyed pictures from views of different speakers which are riddled from gothic imagery. This part of The Waste Land can be seen as a modified dramatic monologue. The four speakers in this part are frantic in their need to speak, to find an audience, but they find themselves surrounded by dead people and thwarted by outside circumstances, like wars. Because the parts are so short and the situations so confusing, the effect is not one of an overwhelming impression of a single character; instead, the reader is left with the feeling of being trapped in a crowd, unable to find a familiar face. It is made up of four vignettes, each seemingly from the perspective of different speakers. The first is an autobiographical snippet from the childhood of an aristocratic woman, in which she recalls sledding and claims that she is German, not Russian. The woman mixes a meditation on the seasons with remarks on the barren state of her current existence ("I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter"). The second is a prophetic, apocalyptic invitation to journey into a desert waste where the speaker will show the reader "something different from either / Your shadow at morning striding behind you / Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; / [He] will show you fear in a handful of dust". The almost threatening prophetic tone is mixed with childhood reminiscences about a "hyacinth girl" and...
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