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.
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'!
“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
If I feel depressed, I tell myself I can still be great, there's always that. I imagine other people could have other things that serve as really great crutches. Somehow it reminds me of the first time I tasted really good chocolate. Really nice, somehow. But it burnt my mouth. This is the only argument I know for need-based greatness. And really, need-based anything goodie.
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