Archives for May 2007

The one guilty man

By Paulo Coelho

Wise King Weng asked to visit the palace prison. And he began listening to the prisoners’ complaints.

‘I’m innocent,’ said a man accused of murder. ‘I’m here simply because I wanted to give my wife a fright, but I accidentally killed her.’

‘I was accused of taking a bribe,’ said another, ‘but all I did was accept a gift.’

All the prisoners declared their innocence to King Weng, until one of them, a young man of only twenty or so, said:

‘I’m guilty. I wounded my brother in a fight and I deserve to be punished. This place has made me reflect on the pain I caused.’

‘Remove this criminal from the prison immediately!’ cried King Weng. ‘He’ll end up corrupting all these entirely innocent men.’

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“The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho

Meeting the king

By Paulo Coelho

A Persian king asked Saadi of Shiraz:

‘On your wanderings through the cities of my kingdom, do you think of me and of my works?’

‘Your Majesty, I think of you whenever I forget to think of God,’ was the wise man’s answer.

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New Series In PhotoBlog : Repetition

Repetition

Visit The New Series In PhotoBlog :
Repetition – 06 May 2007

Signing for my new book @ Paris

On the 12th of May I will be doing a signing in Virgin MegaStore in Paris.
This event will be limited to 200 people.
For further information please contact Virgin Megastore

The letter that I can’t answer

By Paulo Coelho

The letter that I can’t answer is lying right here on my desk. It reached me through the efforts of a Dutch couple who sent me an e-mail in June 2006. I lent it no importance, and did not answer. At the end of that same month they wrote again, and again I paid no attention. And then came the warning phrased in more serious words:

“This is the last time we are asking you this favor. It is up to you to write to Justin or not. Or to put it better, it is up to your conscience. I got to know your books because he recommended them. Yours truly, Jacobus” (I shall omit his surname).

I read the text of the e-mail carefully: it says that Justin Fuller, prisoner #999266 at the Polunsky Unit, Livingston, Texas, will be executed exactly on my birthday, the 24th August. His lawyer, Don Bailey, has already been to all the appeal courts, and it looks like the cause is lost. They are not asking me to denounce the fact publicly, or to take some position on the case: they just want me to send this reader some comforting words.

I type Justin’s name in a search tool. I see his photo, then I discover that there is a page with the names of all those who are (or have been) in death row in Texas. I see his criminal record at www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/fullerjustin.htm

I write the letter. The week following my birthday, Jacobus writes to me once more: Justin received it, and answered me before he was executed. The letter is waiting for me in a hotel I usually stay at in a certain town, and that I used as the sender’s address.

Finally, at the end of October 2006, I stop at the hotel. I know that a letter from a man condemned to death awaits me. I know that he has already been executed. I collect the letter, enter a bar, and read the words from someone whom I will never be able to answer. Whom I will never be able to ask permission to publish extracts, but since we are talking about a true aberration of justice – death as an instrument of the State – I shall copy some parts:

“Dear Mr. Coelho:

“Death row is the arena where the policies of Power, Retribution and Violence are applied to a man using materials such as concrete and steel, until this man turns into steel and his heart becomes as hard as concrete. However, though steel can be hard, it can still be flexible, and though the heart can be transformed into concrete, it still beats. Beyond the concrete and the steel stands the man, his love of life, and the great principles that rule human beings.

“Your letter surprised me. And it is very strange that my transcendence (Justin always uses this term instead of “execution”) is to take place just on your birthday. Of course, I hope it does not take place, but we both know that life is always accompanied by death. In the USA they execute prisoners in the name of what they call “justice” without taking into account whether they can be well represented in court, the circumstances of their birth and their family environment.

“While I wait out the last appeal to the Supreme Court, I feel full of life and strong, and my spirit is completely free.

“If I transcend, I will finally be able to float in the wind and enjoy freedom. I have realized that although my body is imprisoned, my life has changed and my soul can still love, because all freedom is mental. Many people in this world, although they are on the outside of prison, are far more in bondage than I am.

“Only when these people come to understand that freedom is a state of the mind will they be able to really enjoy it.”

The letter that I couldn’t answer is much longer. It describes the relationship that we built through my books, and it wishes me and my family all the best. And now it sits on my desk.

The letter that I couldn’t answer, from a man condemned to death, arrested when he was 19 years old and executed when he was 27, contains not a word of lamentation: it speaks of freedom and life.

Copyright by Paulo Coelho

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Edizione nº 146: La lettera a cui non posso rispondere

Justin FullerLa lettera a cui non posso rispondere ora si trova sul mio tavolo. íˆ arrivata nelle mie mani grazie all’impegno di alcuni coniugi olandesi che, nel giugno 2006, mi hanno inviato un messaggio elettronico. Io non vi ho prestato importanza, e non ho risposto. Loro hanno insistito ancora alla fine dello stesso mese e neanche allora vi ho prestato attenzione. Fino a quando è arrivato un avvertimento con parole piú severe:

“Questa è l’ultima volta che chiediamo questo favore. íˆ a suo criterio scrivere o meno a Justin. O meglio, è a criterio della sua coscienza. Ho conosciuto i suoi libri proprio grazie a lui. Distinti saluti, Jacobus (ometto il cognome)”.

Ho letto allora con attenzione il testo della e-mail: vi si diceva che Justin Fuller, detenuto #999266 della Unití  Polunsky, Livingston, Texas, sarebbe stato giustiziato il giorno del mio compleanno: 24 agosto. L’avvocato, Don Bailey, aveva gií  fatto ricorso in tutti i gradi della giustizia, ma, a quanto pareva, la causa era persa. Non mi stavano chiedendo di denunciare pubblicamente il fatto, o che prendessi posizione al riguardo: volevano solo che inviassi alcune parole di conforto a questo lettore.

Digito il nome di Justin in un motore di ricerca. Vedo la sua fotografia, scopro che c’è una pagina con i nomi di tutti quelli che si trovano (o si trovavano) nel braccio della morte in Texas. Vedo la scheda penale: www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/fullerjustin.htm

Scrivo la lettera. La settimana successiva al mio compleanno, Jacobus mi scrive ancora una volta: Justin l’ha ricevuta e, prima di essere giustiziato, mi ha risposto. La lettera mi sta aspettando in un albergo in cui sono solito fermarmi in una certa cittí  e che ho dato come indirizzo del mittente.

Finalmente, alla fine di ottobre 2006, passo per quell’albergo. So che c’è una lettera di un condannato a morte che mi aspetta. So che lui è stato ormai giustiziato. Ritiro la lettera, mi fermo in un bar e leggo le parole di qualcuno a cui non potrí² mai rispondere. A cui non posso neanche chiedere l’autorizzazione per pubblicare alcuni brani, ma, giacché stiamo parlando di una vera e propria aberrazione della giustizia – la morte come strumento dello stato – ne trascrivo qui alcune parti:

“Caro Signor Coelho,

“il braccio della morte è l’arena dove le politiche del Potere, del Compenso e della Violenza vengono applicate ad un uomo, usando (materiali come) cemento e acciaio. Fino a che quest’uomo si trasforma in acciaio e il suo cuore diviene tanto duro quanto il cemento. Eppure, per quanto l’acciaio possa essere duro, riesce ancora ad essere flessibile, e per quanto il cuore si sia trasformato in cemento, riesce ancora a battere. Al di lí  (del cemento e dell’acciaio) rimangono l’uomo, il suo amore per la vita e i grandi principi che reggono l’essere umano”.

“La sua lettera mi ha sorpreso. Ed è molto strano che la mia trascendenza (Justin usa sempre questo termine, invece che “esecuzione”) possa avvenire proprio nel giorno del suo compleanno. Ovviamente, spero che cií² non avvenga, ma noi due sappiamo che, insieme con la vita, viene sempre la morte. Negli Stati Uniti d’America si compiono le esecuzioni dei detenuti in nome di quella che chiamano “giustizia”, senza tener conto del fatto che siano ben rappresentati nei tribunali, delle condizioni di nascita e dell’ambiente familiare.

“Intanto che aspetto l’ultimo appello alla Corte Suprema, mi trovo pieno di vita, forte, e con lo spirito del tutto libero”.

“Se io trascenderí², potrí² finalmente fluttuare nel vento e godere della libertí . Ho potuto rendermi conto che, malgrado il mio corpo sia prigioniero, la mia vita è cambiata e la mia anima puí² ancora amare, giacché la libertí  è mentale. C’è molta gente nel mondo che, benché si trovi al di fuori della prigione, è molto piú prigioniera di me”.

” Solo quando queste persone si renderanno conto che la libertí  è uno stato mentale potranno realmente goderne”.
La lettera a cui non ho potuto rispondere è molto piú lunga e descrive il rapporto che si instaura attraverso i miei libri. Augura quanto di meglio vi sia a me e alla mia famiglia. E ora è lí¬ sul mio tavolo.

La lettera a cui non ho potuto rispondere, di un condannato a morte, arrestato quando aveva 19 anni, giustiziato quando ne aveva 27, non contiene parole di lagnanza: parla di libertí  e di vita.

Édition nº 146: La lettre í  laquelle je ne peux pas répondre

Justin FullerLa lettre í  laquelle je ne peux pas répondre se trouve maintenant sur ma table. Elle m’est arrivée grí¢ce aux efforts d’un couple de Hollandais, qui m’ont envoyé un courrier électronique en juin 2006. Je ne lui ai pas accordé d’importance, et je n’ai pas répondu. Ils ont insisté í  la fin de ce míªme mois, et je n’ai toujours pas fait attention. Et puis est venu cet avertissement dans des termes plus sérieux :

« C’est la dernière fois que nous vous demandons cette faveur. Vous pouvez juger bon d’écrire ou pas í  Justin. Ou plutí´t, cela relève de votre conscience. J’ai connu vos livres justement parce qu’il me les a recommandés. Cordialement, Jacobus » (j’omets son nom).

J’ai lu attentivement le texte du courriel : il y est dit que Justin Fuller, prisonnier #999266 de l’Unité Polunsky, Livingston, Texas, sera exécuté précisément le jour de mon anniversaire : le 24 aoí»t. Son avocat, Don Bailey, a déjí  suivi toutes les étapes de la procédure, et apparemment la cause est perdue. Ils ne me demandent pas d’aller publiquement dénoncer le fait, ou de prendre position sur le sujet : ils veulent seulement que j’envoie quelques mots de réconfort í  ce lecteur.

Je tape le nom de Justin sur un moteur de recherche. Je vois sa photo, je découvre une page qui contient les noms de tous ceux qui se trouvent (ou se trouvaient) dans le couloir de la mort au Texas. Je vois sa fiche criminelle :
www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/fullerjustin.htm

J’écris la lettre. La semaine suivant mon anniversaire, Jacobus m’écrit encore une fois : Justin l’a reí§ue, et il m’a répondu avant d’íªtre exécuté. La lettre m’attend dans une certaine ville dans un hí´tel oí¹ j’ai l’habitude de descendre, et que j’ai indiqué comme adresse d’expéditeur.

Finalement, í  la fin d’octobre 2006, je passe í  l’hí´tel. Je sais qu’il y a une lettre d’un condamné í  mort qui m’attend. Je sais qu’il a déjí  été exécuté. Je retire la lettre, je m’arríªte dans un bar, et je lis les mots écrits par quelqu’un í  qui je ne pourrai jamais répondre. í€ qui je ne peux pas non plus demander la permission d’en publier des passages, mais comme nous discutons d’une vraie aberration de la justice – la mort comme instrument de l’État – j’en transcris ici certaines parties :

« Cher M. Coelho,

« Le couloir de la mort est l’arène dans laquelle les politiques fondées sur le Pouvoir, la Rétribution et la Violence sont appliquées í  un homme í  l’aide de (matériaux comme) le béton et l’acier. Jusqu’í  ce que cet homme se transforme en acier, et que son cÅ“ur devienne aussi dur que le béton. Cependant, malgré sa dureté, l’acier peut encore íªtre flexible, et míªme transformé en béton, le cÅ“ur est encore capable de battre. Au-delí  (du béton et de l’acier) il reste l’homme, son amour de la vie, et les grands principes qui régissent l’íªtre humain.

« Votre lettre m’a surpris. Et il est très étrange que ma transcendance (Justin utilise toujours ce terme, au lieu d'”exécution”) puisse avoir lieu justement le jour de votre anniversaire. Bien sí»r, j’espère que cela n’arrivera pas, mais nous savons tous les deux qu’avec la vie vient toujours la mort. Aux États-Unis, on exécute les prisonniers au nom de ce que l’on nomme “justice”, sans chercher í  savoir s’ils sont bien représentés devant les tribunaux, sans tenir compte de leurs conditions de naissance et de leur milieu familial.

« Pendant que j’attends le dernier appel auprès de la Cour Supríªme, je me trouve plein de vie, de force, et l’esprit entièrement libre.

« Si je me transcende, je pourrai enfin flotter dans le vent et jouir de la liberté. Bien que mon corps soit prisonnier, j’ai compris que ma vie avait changé, et mon í¢me peut encore aimer, puisque toute liberté est mentale. Il y a beaucoup de gens dans ce monde qui, míªme í  l’extérieur de la prison, sont beaucoup plus prisonniers que moi.

« C’est seulement lorsque ces personnes comprendront que la liberté est un état d’esprit, qu’elles pourront réellement en jouir. »

La lettre í  laquelle je n’ai pas pu répondre est bien plus longue, elle décrit la relation que nous avions établie í  travers mes livres. Elle souhaite tout ce qu’il y a de meilleur pour moi et pour ma famille. Et maintenant elle repose sur ma table.

La lettre í  laquelle je n’ai pas pu répondre, celle d’un condamné í  mort emprisonné alors qu’il avait 19 ans, exécuté í  l’í¢ge de 27 ans, ne contient aucun mot de lamentation : elle parle de liberté et de vie.

The letter I can't answer

Justin FullerThe letter that I can’t answer is lying right here on my desk. It reached me through the efforts of a Dutch couple who sent me an e-mail in June 2006. I lent it no importance, and did not answer. At the end of that same month they wrote again, and again I paid no attention. And then came the warning phrased in more serious words:

“This is the last time we are asking you this favor. It is up to you to write to Justin or not. Or to put it better, it is up to your conscience. I got to know your books because he recommended them. Yours truly, Jacobus” (I shall omit his surname).

I read the text of the e-mail carefully: it says that Justin Fuller, prisoner #999266 at the Polunsky Unit, Livingston, Texas, will be executed exactly on my birthday, the 24th August. His lawyer, Don Bailey, has already been to all the appeal courts, and it looks like the cause is lost. They are not asking me to denounce the fact publicly, or to take some position on the case: they just want me to send this reader some comforting words.

I type Justin’s name in a search tool. I see his photo, then I discover that there is a page with the names of all those who are (or have been) in death row in Texas. I see his criminal record at www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/fullerjustin.htm

I write the letter. The week following my birthday, Jacobus writes to me once more: Justin received it, and answered me before he was executed. The letter is waiting for me in a hotel I usually stay at in a certain town, and that I used as the sender’s address.

Finally, at the end of October 2006, I stop at the hotel. I know that a letter from a man condemned to death awaits me. I know that he has already been executed. I collect the letter, enter a bar, and read the words from someone whom I will never be able to answer. Whom I will never be able to ask permission to publish extracts, but since we are talking about a true aberration of justice – death as an instrument of the State – I shall copy some parts:

“Dear Mr. Coelho:

“Death row is the arena where the policies of Power, Retribution and Violence are applied to a man using materials such as concrete and steel, until this man turns into steel and his heart becomes as hard as concrete. However, though steel can be hard, it can still be flexible, and though the heart can be transformed into concrete, it still beats. Beyond the concrete and the steel stands the man, his love of life, and the great principles that rule human beings.

“Your letter surprised me. And it is very strange that my transcendence (Justin always uses this term instead of “execution”) is to take place just on your birthday. Of course, I hope it does not take place, but we both know that life is always accompanied by death. In the USA they execute prisoners in the name of what they call “justice” without taking into account whether they can be well represented in court, the circumstances of their birth and their family environment.

“While I wait out the last appeal to the Supreme Court, I feel full of life and strong, and my spirit is completely free.

“If I transcend, I will finally be able to float in the wind and enjoy freedom. I have realized that although my body is imprisoned, my life has changed and my soul can still love, because all freedom is mental. Many people in this world, although they are on the outside of prison, are far more in bondage than I am.

“Only when these people come to understand that freedom is a state of the mind will they be able to really enjoy it.”
The letter that I couldn’t answer is much longer. It describes the relationship that we built through my books, and it wishes me and my family all the best. And now it sits on my desk.

The letter that I couldn’t answer, from a man condemned to death, arrested when he was 19 years old and executed when he was 27, contains not a word of lamentation: it speaks of freedom and life.

Edición nº 146: La carta que no puedo responder

Justin FullerLa carta que no puedo responder se encuentra ahora sobre mi mesa. Llegó a mis manos gracias a los esfuerzos de un matrimonio holandés que, en junio de 2006, me envió un mensaje de correo electrónico. Yo no le di mayor importancia, y no respondí­. Insistieron a finales del mismo mes, y yo tampoco les presté atención. Hasta que llegó la advertencia con palabras más serias:

“Ésta es la última vez que le pedimos este favor. Le dejamos a su criterio la decisión de escribirle o no a Justin. A criterio de su conciencia, más bien. Yo conocí­ sus libros justamente porque él me los recomendó. Atentamente, Jacobus [omito el apellido]”.

Leo cuidadosamente el texto del mensaje: allí­ se dice que Justin Fuller, prisionero nº 999266 de la Unidad Polunsky, de Livingston, Texas, va a ser ejecutado justamente el dí­a de mi cumpleaños: el 24 de agosto. Su abogado, Don Bailey, ya ha recurrido a todas las instancias, y el caso se da por perdido. No me piden que denuncie el caso en público ni que me posicione al respecto: sólo quieren que le enví­e a este lector algunas palabras para confortarlo.

Tecleo el nombre de Justin en un buscador de Internet. Veo su foto, descubro que existe una página con los nombres de todos los que están (o estaban) en el corredor de la muerte de Texas. Leo su ficha policial:
www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/fullerjustin.htm

Escribo la carta. La semana siguiente a la de mi cumpleaños, Jacobus me vuelve a escribir: Justin la habí­a recibido, y me habí­a respondido antes de ser ejecutado. La carta me está esperando en un hotel en el que suelo alojarme en cierta ciudad, y que puse como dirección en el remite.

Finalmente, en los últimos dí­as de octubre de 2006, paso por el hotel. Sé que me está esperando la carta de un condenado a muerte. Sé que él ya ha sido ejecutado. Recojo la carta, paro en un bar, y leo las palabras de alguien a quien nunca más podré responder. A quien tampoco puedo pedirle autorización para publicar algunos trechos, pero como estamos discutiendo una verdadera aberración de la justicia (la muerte como instrumento del estado) transcribo aquí­ algunas frases:

“Estimado Sr. Coelho:

“El corredor de la muerte es el lugar en el que las polí­ticas del Poder, la Retribución, y la Violencia, se aplican a un hombre usando [materiales como] el cemento y el acero… hasta que este hombre se transforma en acero, y su corazón llega a ser tan duro como el cemento. Sin embargo, aunque el acero pueda ser duro, aún puede ser flexible, y aunque el corazón se haya transformado en cemento, todaví­a es capaz de latir. Más allá [del cemento y el acero] queda el hombre, su amor por la vida, y los grandes principios que rigen la actuación del ser humano”.

“Su carta me sorprendió bastante. Y es muy extraño que mi trascendencia [Justin usa siempre este término, en lugar de “ejecución”] pueda tener lugar justo el dí­a de su cumpleaños. Por supuesto que espero que eso no ocurra, pero ambos sabemos que la vida siempre viene acompañada de la muerte. En los Estados Unidos ejecutan prisioneros en nombre de lo que llaman “justicia”, sin tener en cuenta la posibilidad de obtener una buena defensa, ni la situación familiar en la que alguien nació y creció”.

“Mientras espero el último recurso a la Corte Suprema, me siento lleno de vida, fuerte, y con mi espí­ritu completamente libre”.

“Si trasciendo, por fin podré flotar en el viento y disfrutar la libertad. He logrado entender que, aunque mi cuerpo esté preso, mi vida cambió, y mi alma aún puede amar, pues toda libertad es mental. Hay muchas personas en este mundo que, a pesar de estar fuera de la cárcel, se encuentran mucho más presas que yo”.

“Sólo cuando estas personas comprendan que la libertad es un estado mental, podrán disfrutarla de verdad”. La carta que no pude responder es bastante más larga. Describe la relación que establecimos a través de mis libros. Nos desea lo mejor del mundo a mí­ y a mi familia. Y ahora descansa sobre mi mesa.

La carta que no pude responder, de un condenado a muerte, preso a los 19, ejecutado cuando tení­a 27 años de edad, no contiene palabras quejumbrosas: habla de libertad y de vida.

Edií§í£o nº 146: A carta que ní£o posso responder

Justin FullerA carta que ní£o posso responder está agora sobre a minha mesa. Chegou í s minhas mí£os por causa de um esforí§o de um casal de holandeses, que me enviou uma correspondíªncia eletrí´nica em junho de 2006. Eu ní£o dei importí¢ncia, e ní£o retornei. Tornaram a insistir no final do mesmo míªs, e eu tampouco dei atení§í£o. Até que veio a advertíªncia em palavras mais sérias:

“Esta é a última vez que pedimos este favor. Fica a seu critério escrever ou ní£o para Justin. Melhor dizendo, fica a critério da sua consciíªncia. Conheci seus livros justamente por recomendaí§í£o dele. Atenciosamente, Jacobus (omito o sobrenome)”.

Li com cuidado o texto do e-mail: ali dizia que Justin Fuller, prisioneiro #999266 da Unidade Polunsky, Livingston, Texas, será executado exatamente no dia do meu aniversário: 24 de agosto. O advogado, Don Bailey, já foi a todas as instí¢ncias, e pelo visto a causa está perdida. Ní£o estí£o me pedindo que vá a público denunciar o fato, ou que tome posií§í£o a respeito: querem apenas que envie algumas palavras de conforto a este leitor.

Digito o nome de Justin em um mecanismo de busca. Vejo sua foto, descubro que há uma página com os o nome de todos que estí£o (ou estavam) no corredor da morte no Texas. Vejo sua ficha criminal: www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/fullerjustin.htm

Escrevo a carta. Na semana seguinte ao meu aniversário, Jacobus me escreve mais uma vez: Justin a recebeu, e me respondeu antes de ser executado. A carta está me esperando em um hotel que costumo ficar em determinada cidade, e que dei como endereí§o de remetente.

Finalmente, no final de Outubro 2006, passo pelo hotel. Sei que tem uma carta de um condenado a morte que me espera. Sei que ele já foi executado. Recolho a carta, paro em um bar, e leio as palavras de alguém a quem nunca mais poderei responder. A quem tampouco posso pedir permissí£o para publicar trechos, mas como estamos discutindo uma verdadeira aberraí§í£o da justií§a – a morte como instrumento do estado – transcrevo aqui algumas partes:

“Caro Sr. Coelho:

“O corredor da morte é a arena onde as polí­ticas de Poder, Retribuií§í£o, e Violíªncia, sí£o aplicadas a um homem usando (materiais como) concreto e aí§o. Até que este homem se transforma em aí§o, e seu coraí§í£o passa a ser tí£o duro como o concreto. Entretanto, embora o aí§o possa ser duro, ainda é capaz de ser flexí­vel, e embora o coraí§í£o tenha se transformado em concreto, ainda é capaz de bater. Além (do concreto e aí§o) resta o homem, seu amor pela vida, e os grandes princí­pios que regem o ser humano”.

“Sua carta me deixou surpreso. E é muito estranho que minha transcendíªncia (Justin sempre usa este termo, ao invés de “execuí§í£o”) possa acontecer justamente no dia do seu aniversário. Claro que espero que isso ní£o ocorra, mas nós dois sabemos que com a vida sempre vem a morte. Nos EUA, executam prisioneiros em nome do que chamam de “justií§a”, sem levar em conta a capacidade de serem bem representados nos tribunais, as condií§íµes de nascimento e o ambiente familiar.

“Enquanto espero o último apelo í  Corte Suprema, me encontro cheio de vida, forte, e com meu espí­rito inteiramente livre”.

“Se eu transcender, poderei finalmente flutuar no vento e desfrutar a liberdade. Pude entender que embora meu corpo esteja preso, a minha vida mudou, e a minha alma ainda pode amar, já que toda liberdade é mental. Existe muita gente neste mundo que, embora esteja do lado de fora da prisí£o, encontra-se muito mais presa do que eu”.

” Só quando estas pessoas entenderem que a liberdade é um estado da mente, é que elas poderí£o realmente desfrutá-la”.

A carta que eu ní£o pude responder é bem mais longa, descreve a relaí§í£o que estabelecemos através dos meus livros. Deseja tudo que há de melhor para mim e para a minha famí­lia. E agora repousa na minha mesa.

A carta que eu ní£o pude responder, de um condenado í  morte, preso quando tinha 19 anos, executado quando tinha 27 anos de idade, ní£o contem palavras de lamento: fala de liberdade e vida.

Thinking about death

By Paulo Coelho

Zilu said to Confucius (a Chinese philosopher, who lived in the sixth century B.C.):
‘May I ask what you think about death?’
‘You may ask,’ replied Confucius, ‘but if you still don’t understand life, why do you want to know about death. Leave thinking about death for when life is over.’

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The New Yorker Article

The Magus
The astonishing appeal of Paulo Coelho.
by Dana Goodyear in May 7, 2007

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Rebuilding the world

By Paulo Coelho

A father was trying to read the newspaper, but his little son kept pestering him. Finally, the father grew tired of this and, tearing a page from the newspaper – one that bore a map of the world – he cut it into several pieces and handed them to his son.

‘Right, now you’ve got something to do. I’ve given you a map of the world and I want to see if you can put it back together correctly.’

He resumed his reading, knowing that the task would keep the child occupied for the rest of the day. However, a quarter of an hour later, the boy returned with the map.

‘Has your mother been teaching you geography?’ asked his father in astonishment.

‘I don’t even know what that is,’ replied the boy. ‘But there was a photo of a man on the other side of the page, so I put the man back together and found I’d put the world back together too.’

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Le coin des lecteurs de La Sorcière de Portobello.

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Cordialement

Paula Braconnot

How to be remembered

By Paulo Coelho

In the monastery of Sceta, Abbot Lucas gathered the brothers together for a sermon.

‘May you all be forgotten,’ he said.

‘But why?’ one of the brothers asked. ‘Does that mean that our example can never serve to help someone in need?’

‘In the days when everyone was just, no one paid any attention to people who behaved in an exemplary manner,’ replied the abbot. ‘Everyone did their best, never thinking that by behaving thus they were doing their duty by their brother. They loved their neighbour because they understood that this was part of life and they were merely obeying a law of nature. They shared their possessions in order not to accumulate more than they could carry, for journeys lasted a whole lifetime. They lived together in freedom, giving and receiving, making no demands on others and blaming no one. That is why their deeds were never spoken of and that is why they left no stories. If only we could achieve the same thing now: to make goodness such an ordinary thing that there would be no need to praise those who practise it.

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True skill

By Paulo Coelho

The yogi Raman was a true master of the art of archery. One morning, he invited his favourite disciple to watch a display of his skill. The disciple had seen this more than a hundred times before, but he nevertheless obeyed his teacher. They went into the wood beside the monastery and when they reached a magnificent oak tree, Raman took a flower which he had tucked in his collar and placed it on one of the branches.

He then opened his bag and took out three objects: his splendid bow made of precious wood, an arrow and a white handkerchief embroidered with lilacs.

The yogi positioned himself one hundred paces from the spot where he had placed the flower. Facing his target, he asked his disciple to blindfold him with the embroidered handkerchief.

The disciple did as his teacher requested.

‘How often have you seen me practise the noble and ancient sport of archery?’ Raman asked him.

‘Every day,’ replied his disciple. ‘And you have always managed to hit the rose from three hundred paces away.’

With his eyes covered by the handkerchief, the yogi Raman placed his feet firmly on the ground, drew back the bowstring with all his might – aiming at the rose placed on one of the branches of the oak tree – and then released the arrow.

The arrow whistled through the air, but it did not even hit the tree, missing the target by an embarrassingly wide margin.

‘Did I hit it?’ said Raman, removing the handkerchief from his eyes.

‘No, you missed completely,’ replied the disciple. ‘I thought you were going to demonstrate to me the power of thought and your ability to perform magic.’

‘I have just taught you the most important lesson about the power of thought,’ replied Raman. ‘When you want something, concentrate only on that: no one will ever hit a target they cannot see.’

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