I recollected one story there was in the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own graves till morning.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the connection between the living and the dead, highlighting themes of memory and mortality.
Charles Dickens evokes a haunting image of the dead returning to their graves, provoking contemplation about the nature of life, death, and our memories of those who have passed. It suggests that the spirits linger on in our thoughts, reminding us of their existence and influence, even after they are gone.
In practice
In a memorial speech, one might use this quote to discuss how we continue to remember and honor those who have passed.
A silent look of affection and regard when all other eyes are turned coldly away-the consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us-is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require, in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries of pleasure in theirs.
You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.
Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that [Christmas] has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!
She had lived her early years as though she were waiting for something she might, but never did, become.
It is better to die of hunger having lived without grief and fear, than to live with a troubled spirit, amid abundance
When she read just now to James, 'and there were numbers of soldiers with kettledrums and trumpets,' and his eyes darkened, she thought, why should they grow up, and lose all that?
But nothing in India is identifiable, the mere asking of a question causes it to disappear or to merge in something else.
A human life is a story told by God.
Advocates of capitalism are very apt to appeal to the sacred principles of liberty, which are embodied in one maxim: The fortunate must not be restrained in the exercise of tyranny over the unfortunate.
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