Status Updates From O conflito

Reading the physical book in Brazilian Portuguese

‘So that was the end . . .’ I said.
But Gabriel pulled himself up on his pillows. His eyes, those eyes that had always been beautiful, opened very wide. His voice rang out loud and clear—a triumphant voice.
‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘that’s where you are wrong! It wasn’t the end. It was the beginning . . .’

‘If they want to vote for bare Christian decency they can vote for me.’
‘They won’t though,’ said Teresa, and she sighed.
Gabriel looked at her and his face softened. ‘No,’ he said, ‘they won’t.’
Robert took his pipe out of his mouth again. ‘More fools they,’ he said unexpectedly.
‘Of course, Mr Norreys, we know you’re a Communist,’ said Mrs Carslake acidly. What she meant I have no idea.

And that, when I remember Isabella, is how I see her and always shall see her to the end of time. Sitting in the sunlight on the upright carved stone seat, her head proud and erect, her long narrow hands folded peacefully on her lap and her face serious, thinking of flowers.
. . .
It was, as I have said, a moment I shall always remember. It was the climax, you see, of our friendship . . .

‘Can’t you understand that I’ve nothing to live for?’
‘But—I know I’m stupid—does one have to have anything to live for? I mean why? Can’t one just live?’
I caught my breath before the simplicity of that.