Life is like a box of chocolates. Sometimes it's delicious and sometimes it makes you want to puke.
Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.
(Eric Roth, U.S. screenwriter. Directed by Robert Zemekis. Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks), Forrest Gump (1994).
As adapted from novel by Winston Groom, the dying mother's comment to her resourceful son with an IQ of 75.)
They shift coffee-houses and chocolate-houses from hour to hour, to get over the insupportable labour of doing nothing.
(Richard Steele (1672-1729), British dramatist, essayist, editor. Spectator (London, Sept. 9, 1712), no. 479, The Spectator, ed. D.F. Bond (1965).
Last words of article, referring to "loungers ... satisfied with being merely part of the number of mankind, without distinguishing themselves from amongst them.")
“Without pain, how could we know joy? This is an old argument in the field of thinking about suffering and its stupidity and lack of sophistication could be plumbed for centuries but suffice it to say that the existence of broccoli does not, in any way, affect the taste of chocolate.” The Fault in Our Stars
Chocolate softens, ice-cream melts, beauty wrinkles so how can any relationship be an exception. You are never in the same water in a river.
Life isn't a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, latte in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming ‘Woohoo WHAT A RIDE'!
(Life isn't a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, latte in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming ‘Woohoo WHAT A RIDE'!)
People in Stamps used to say that the whites in our town were so prejudiced that a Negro couldn't buy vanilla ice cream. Except on July Fourth. Other days he had to be satisfied with chocolate.
(Maya Angelou (b. 1928), African American poet, autobiographer, and performer. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, ch. 8 (1970).
Remembering her childhood in strictly segregated, harshly racist Stamps, Arkansas, during the 1930s.)