Eleven Minutes PDF Book by Paulo Coelho


Click here to Download Eleven Minutes PDF Book by Paulo Coelho having PDF Size 1.9 MB and No of Pages 256.

She did not repeat her childhood mistake: they talked, became friends and started going to the cinema and to parties together. She also noticed that, as had happened with the first boy, she associated love more with the person’s absence than with their presence: she would miss her boyfriend intensely.

Eleven Minutes PDF Book by Paulo Coelho

Name of Book Eleven Minutes
PDF Size 1.9 MB
No of Pages 256
Language English
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About Book – Eleven Minutes PDF Book

Would spend hours imagining what they would talk about when next they met, and remembering every second they had spent together, trying to work out what she had done right and what she had done wrong. She liked to think of herself as an experienced young woman, who had already allowed one grand passion to slip from her grasp and who knew the pain that this caused. 

And now she was determined to fight with all her might for this man and for marriage, determined that he was the man for marriage, children and the house by the sea. She went to talk to her mother, who said imploringly: “But you’re still very young, my dear.” “You got married to my father when you were sixteen.”

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Her mother preferred not to explain that this had been because of an unexpected pregnancy, and so she used the “things were different then” argument and brought the matter to a close. The following day, Maria and her boyfriend went for a walk in the countryside. They talked a little, and Maria asked if he wanted to travel, but, instead of answering the question, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

My aim is to understand love. I know how alive I felt when I was in love, and I know that everything I have now, however interesting it might seem, doesn’t really excite me. But love is a terrible thing: I’ve seen my girlfriends suffer and I don’t want the same thing to happen to me. They used to laugh at me and my innocence, but now they ask me how it is I manage men so well.

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I smile and say nothing, because I know that the remedy is worse than the pain: I simply don’t fall in love. With each day that passes, I see more clearly how fragile men are, how inconstant, insecure and surprising they are…a few of my girlfriends’ fathers have propositioned me, but I’ve always refused.

At first, I was shocked, but now I think it’s just the way men are. Although my aim is to understand love, and although I suffer to think of the people to whom I gave my heart, I see that those who touched my heart failed to arouse my body, and that those who aroused my body failed to touch my heart.

“If you can go there, you can always come back. Being a performer, an actress, is fine for a young woman, but it only lasts as long as your looks, and they start to fade when you’re about thirty. So make the most of things now. Find someone who’s honest and loving, and marry him. Love isn’t that important. I didn’t love your father at first, but money buys everything, even true love. Eleven Minutes PDF Book

And look at your father, he’s not even rich!” It was bad advice from a friend, but good advice from a mother. Forty-eight hours later, Maria was back in Rio, though not without first having made a visit, alone, to her old place of work in order to hand in her resignation and to hear the owner of the shop say: “Yes, I’d heard that a big French impresario wanted to take you off to Paris.

I can’t stop you going in pursuit of your happiness, but I want you to know something before you leave.” Since she had no permanent address, she bought a mobile phone, the sort that use pre-paid phone cards, and in the days that followed, she waited for job offers. She ate in Chinese restaurants (which were the cheapest) and, to pass the time, she studied furiously.

But time dragged, and the telephone didn’t ring. To her surprise, no one bothered her when she went for walks by the lake, apart from a few drug-pushers who always hung around in the same place, underneath one of the bridges that connect the lovely old public gardens to the newer part of the city. Eleven Minutes PDF Book

She began to doubt her looks, until an excolleague, whom she bumped into by chance in a café, told her that it wasn’t her fault, it was the fault of the Swiss, who hate to bother anyone, and of other foreigners, who were all afraid of being arrested for “sexual harassment”—a concept that made relations between men and women even more complicated.

Eleven minutes. The world revolved around something that only took eleven minutes. And because of those eleven minutes in any one twentyfour-hour day (assuming that they all made love to their wives every day, which is patently absurd and a complete lie) they got married, supported a family, put up with screaming kids, thought up ridiculous excuses to justify getting home late.

Ogled dozens, if not hundreds of other women with whom they would like to go for a walk around Lake Geneva, bought expensive clothes for themselves and even more expensive clothes for their wives, paid prostitutes to try to give them what they were missing, and thus sustained a vast industry of cosmetics. Eleven Minutes PDF Book

Diet foods, exercise, pornography and power, and yet when they got together with other men, contrary to popular belief, they never talked about women. They talked about jobs, money and sport. Something was very wrong with civilization, and it wasn’t the destruction of the Amazon ozone layer, the death of the panda, cigarettes, carcinogenic foodstuffs or prison conditions, as the newspapers would have it.

Some hours before that scene, I went into a café, heard a voice, and it was as if God had thrown a pebble into that place. The waves of energy touched both me and a man sitting in a corner painting a portrait. He felt the vibrations of that pebble, and so did I. So what now? The painter knows when he has found a model. The musician knows when his instrument is well tuned.

Here, in my diary, I am aware that there are certain phrases which are not written by me, but by a woman full of “light”; I am that woman though I refuse to accept it. I could carry on like this, but I could also, like the duck on the lake, have fun and take pleasure in that sudden ripple that set the water rocking. There is a name for that pebble: passion. Eleven Minutes PDF Book Download

It can be used to describe the beauty of an earth-shaking meeting between two people, but it isn’t just that. It’s there in the excitement of the unexpected, in the desire to do something with real fervor, in the certainty that one is going to realize a dream. The men began to arrive—Russian, Swiss, German, all of them busy executives.

Well able to afford the services of the most expensive prostitutes in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Some came over to her table, but she kept her eye on Milan, who shook his head. Maria was pleased; tonight, she wouldn’t have to open her legs, put up with smells or take showers in sometimes chilly bathrooms; all she had to do was to teach a man grown weary of sex how to make love.

And when she thought about it, not every woman would have been creative enough to come up with that story about the exchange of gifts. At the same time, she was wondering: Why is it that, having experienced everything, these men want to go right back to the start? Not that this was her concern; as long as they paid well, she was there to serve them. Eleven Minutes PDF Book Download

A man came in, younger than Ralf Hart; he was goodlooking, with dark hair, perfect teeth, and wearing what looked like a Mao jacket—no tie, just a high collar and, underneath, an impeccable white shirt. He went up to the bar, where both he and Milan turned to look at Maria; then he came over.

Ralf Hart was looking at a woman with dark hair and wearing dark clothes, who was sitting on the floor of his living room, and was full of absurd desires, like having an open fire burning in the middle of summer. Yes, he would like to imagine what those clothes were hiding; he could guess the size of her breasts, and he knew that she didn’t really need the bra she was wearing.

Although perhaps she had to wear it for her work. Her breasts were neither large nor small, they were simply young. Her eyes gave nothing away; what was she doing here? Why was he encouraging this absurd, dangerous relationship, when he had no problems finding women? He was rich, young, famous, good-looking. He loved his work; he had loved women whom he had subsequently married; he had been loved. Eleven Minutes PDF Book Download

He was someone who, according to all the rules and norms, should have been able to shout out loud: “I’m happy.” But he wasn’t. One day, a musician—whom he had always thought of as very strange, because he seemed so normal in the midst of all those exotic people—left a book behind in the studio: Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch.

Terence started leafing through it and, as he read, he began to understand himself better. “The lovely woman took off her clothes and picked up a long, short-handled whip. ‘You asked for it,’ she said, ‘so I’m going to whip you.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ murmured her lover, ‘please, I beg you.’” His wife was on the other side of the glass screen, rehearsing.

She had asked them to turn off the microphones that allowed the technicians to listen in to everything, and they had done so. Terence was thinking that perhaps she was making a date with the pianist, and he realized that she was driving him mad, but it was as if he was so accustomed to suffering now that he could not live without it. Eleven Minutes PDF Book Free

“I’m going to whip you,” said the naked woman in the book he was reading. “Oh, yes, please, I beg you.” He was a good-looking man, and a force to be reckoned with in the record company, why did he need to lead such a life? “He told me that I was someone who wasn’t afraid of pain, and that was good, because in order to master the soul, one must also learn to master the body.

He told me, too, that I was using pain in the wrong way, and that was very bad. “This uneducated woodcutter thought he knew me better than I did myself, and that annoyed me, but at the same time, I felt proud to think that my paintings were capable of expressing exactly what I was feeling.” Maria was aware of a sharp stone cutting into her foot, but she could barely feel it for the cold.

Her body was growing numb, and she could only just follow what Ralf Hart was saying. Why was it that in God’s holy world men were only interested in showing her pain. Sacred pain, pain with pleasure, pain with explanations or without, but always pain, pain, pain… Her cut foot stumbled on another stone; she smothered a cry and continued on. Eleven Minutes PDF Book Free

At first, she had managed to maintain her integrity, her self-control, what he called her “light.” Now, though, she was walking very slowly, with both her stomach and her mind churning: she felt as if she were about to throw up. She considered stopping, because none of this made any sense, but she didn’t.

She looked at her feet; apart from a small cut, there were just a few red marks, which would disappear in a few hours’ time. With some difficulty, she went downstairs, without really looking around her. She went and sat down on the rug by the fire—she had discovered that she always felt good there, as if that really was her “place” in the house.

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