Character analysis of Miss Havisham in Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations"

Essay by anbartonJunior High, 9th gradeA+, November 2007

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“The story of your life is not your life, it’s your story.” – John BarthPictures capture a moment in time; happy events are stopped so we can strike a smile for the camera. However, it isn’t those smiles we tend to cherish most; it’s the days when the camera is sitting on the shelf. These are my stories; you’ll never find them in a photograph, but they will always bring a picture to mind for those who witnessed them. They are experiences that will live on, for generations to enjoy. These are my memories.

When I was six months old, my grandma sewed me a quilt for my first Christmas. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about this particular quilt; it was simply green and white with farm animals and hearts. However, ordinary or not, I loved the quilt, which I called Quiltie. To be honest, I believed Quiltie had magical powers; it kept me warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and it was always the right size.

Quiltie was the only blanket I used for years, and bit by bit, it began to fall apart. Seams tore and fabric faded, and love eventually led to Quiltie’s demise. I had just about outgrown Quiltie in the beginning of eighth grade, so my grandma promised to sew me a new one. Finally, my mom convinced me to throw Quiltie away, and not long after that, the new quilt arrived in the mail. It was yellow and orange with sunbonnet girls, and my sister got one with blue to match. In a way, this one is more special because my grandma has arthritis and spent a long time working on it. However, Quiltie was always special to me, and now that I’m older, I don’t think any blanket will ever be quite...