Hershey Bar Quotes

Strength is the capacity to break a Hershey bar into four pieces with your bare hands - and then eat just one of the pieces.

He said “woman” in the same way I’d say “Mmmmm, yummy chocolate” after waking up from hunger pains and finding a Hershey bar in an empty refrigerator.

I'm pretty sure that eating chocolate keeps wrinkles away because I have never seen a 10 year old with a Hershey bar and crows feet.

Dearer to me than the evening star A Packard car A Hershey bar Or a bride in her rich adorning Dearer than any of these by far Is to lie in bed in the morning

In fact, I was a kind of Hershey Bar whore - there wasn't much I wouldn't do for a nickel's worth of chocolate.

Philip ripped at the wrapper of the plain, inadequately thin Hershey bar. "No almonds." "I don't care for nuts." "You proved that when you slammed your foot between the legs of your friend this evening.

When I get married...well, if I get married," I start, staring out the window, "I want to walk down the isle carrying a basket filled with coffee beans and Hershey bars.

[...] They taught us to never ever underestimate the power of chocolate on a female." "Is that so?" "If someone had waved a Hershey bar in front of Bonnie at the right time of the month, she'd have given up Clyde in a heartbeat.

Died from eating a Hershey bar.

The reason Americans favor milk chocolate over dark is because Milton Hershey got his bars into enough American mouths to establish our collective taste.

Suddenly, out of the mist came a parachute with a fresh Hershey chocolate bar from America. It took me a week to eat that candy bar. I hid it day and night. The chocolate was wonderful, but it wasn't the chocolate that was most important. What it meant was that someone in America cared. That parachute was something more important than candy. It represented hope. Hope that someday we would be free. Without hope the soul dies.

If you ordered up a whore here, you'd probably get a theater major doing Joan Crawford as Sadie Thompson. I wonder what would happen if I ordered up a Hershey bar?" His eyes lit up for a moment. "I wonder what would happen if I ordered up a whore and a Hershey bar?

Thank goodness you can’t see cherries in a chocolate bar. I’d have been a red-faced rose if not for my Hershey brown complexion

I am one of those persons who, when sexually immersed, require serious silence, the hush of impeccable concentration. Perhaps it is due to my pubescent training as a Hershey Bar whore, and because I have consistently willed myself to accommodate unscintillating partners - whatever the reason, for me to reach an edge and fall over, all the mechanics must be assisted by the deepest fantasizing, an intoxicating mental cinema that does not welcome lovemaking chatter. The truth is, I am rarely with the person I am with, so to say; and dependence upon an inner scenery, imagined and remembered erotic fragments, shadows irrelevant to the body above or beneath us - those images our minds accept inside sexual seizure but exclude once the beast has been routed, for, regardless of how tolerant we are, these cameos are intolerable to the meanspirited watchmen within us.

Jamie spied a Hershey's almond bar still in its wrapper lying in the corner of the landing. He picked it up and tore open one corner. "Was it bitten into?" asked Claudia. "No," Jamie smiled. "Want half?" "You better not touch it," Claudia warned. "It's probably poisoned or filled with marijuana, so you'll eat it and become either dead or a dope addict". Jamie was irritated. "Couldn't it just happen that someone dropped it?" "I doubt that. Who would drop a whole candy bar and not know it? That's like leaving a statue in a taxi".

Historically, dust jackets are a new concern for authors; you don't see them much before the 1920s. And dust jacket is a strange name for this contrivance, as if books had anything to fear from dust. If you store a book properly, standing up, then the jacket doesn't cover the one part of the book that is actually exposed to dust, which is the top of the pages. So a dust jacket is no such thing at all; it is really a sort of advertising wrapper, like the brown paper sheath on a Hershey's bar. On this wrapper goes the manufacturer's name, the ingredients--some blithering about unforgettable characters or gemlike prose or gripping narrative--and a brief summation of who does what to whom in our gripping, unforgettable, gemlike object.

We sat on the floor, newspaper- wrapped presents in our laps, imagining all the wonderful things inside. We opened them carefully, peeling back layers of newsprint until we reached the boxes, sliced the Scotch tape with our fingernails, lifted the flaps, and each of us found . . . One MRE (Meal, Ready to Eat— turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, in foil pouches); one Hershey bar; and a handful of bullet casings, because this is what my men are getting today. And one more thing: a scrap of paper with a hand-scrawled I love you, Dad.

He found several thick chocolate bars—probably Hershey’s military-issue Ration D bars—divided into segments and packaged in wax-dipped containers to resist gas attack. Designed to be unpalatably bitter so soldiers would eat them only in dire circumstances, they were formulated to be highly caloric and melt-resistant.

Goldberg, the attorney who was often by Trump’s side during those years, said many of his client’s much-ballyhooed associations with famous women and top models were mere moments, staged for the cameras. “Give him a Hershey bar and let him watch television,” Goldberg said. “I only remember him finishing the day [by] going home, not necessarily with a woman but with a bag of candy. . . . He planned his next project, read the blueprints, met with the lawyers, never raising his voice, never showing off, never nasty to anybody in the office, a gentleman. . . . I never heard him speak romantically about a woman. I mean, I heard him speak romantically about his work.” Kate

You “burn” your way into the mind by narrowing the focus to a single word or concept. It’s the ultimate marketing sacrifice. Federal Express was able to put the word overnight into the minds of its prospects because it sacrificed its product line and focused on overnight package delivery only. In a way, the law of leadership—it’s better to be first than to be better—enables the first brand or company to own a word in the mind of the prospect. But the word the leader owns is so simple that it’s invisible. The leader owns the word that stands for the category. For example, IBM owns computer. This is another way of saying that the brand becomes a generic name for the category. “We need an IBM machine.” Is there any doubt that a computer is being requested? You can also test the validity of a leadership claim by a word association test. If the given words are computer, copier, chocolate bar, and cola, the four most associated words are IBM, Xerox, Hershey’s, and Coke. An astute leader will go one step further to solidify its position. Heinz owns the word ketchup. But Heinz went on to isolate the most important ketchup attribute. “Slowest ketchup in the West” is how the company

Back inside, his fire was crackling away. "okay." he actually rubbed his hands together. "Action." In two minutes, he'd pulled cushions and a couple throws from the two sofas and made a sort of nest in front of the fire. Then he grabbed his backpack. "Refreshments." I half expected to see a bottle of wine or someting similar. Instead, he pulled out a thermos.Followed by a bag of marshmellows, a box of graham crackers, and, absolutely, enough Hershey's chocolate bars to feed a small army. "S'mores!" I said happily. "And cocoa.Sit." He waited until I was in the middle of the nest, then disappeared through a doorway. I heard a few squeaks and rattles. When he came back,he was carrying a tray, loaded with mugs,napkins, and real, three-pointed skewers. "You're kidding," I teased when he handed me one. "You actually own s'mores implements." "Roast,then laugh.

Thanks.” “For what?” “For everything.” I shrug and my smile wobbles a little. “Thanks for talking me into taking this trip instead of staying home and wallowing in self-pity. For sticking by my side, but also giving me space. For…being my best friend.” She gives the impression of being cool, clipped, controlled, but deep down Fanny is a smushy-mushy sentimental marshmallow. She grabs me and gives me a fierce hug. “It’s just my time,” she finally says, pulling away. “You know?” I shake my head. I don’t know. “Being best friends is like playing baseball. Right now, it’s my turn to step up to the plate and carry the team.” She lifts her chin and looks up at me with her trademark confidence. “Don’t worry. Your time at bat will come.” “I hope I will carry the team as well as you have.” “You will.” “Wait!” I laugh. “Did you just make a baseball analogy?” “Yeah. So?” “The Americanization of Fanny is complete.” I stroke my chin and chuckle maniacally. “Funny!” Fanny snaps. “I don’t think so!” “It starts with reality television binges and baseball analogies. Soon, you’ll be forgoing French chocolate for Hershey’s bars and baguettes for Wonder Bread.

Love. A Will-o`-the-wisp. St. Elmo's fire. A biological urge. The chemical affinity of one body for another. The deep-rooted urge of the male to propagate his kind. A package of cigarettes. A Hershey bar. A ten-thousand-dollar mink coat. Five dollars.

I don’t know—tall, dark, and handsome and a Hershey bar in his pocket—what more could a girl ask for?

Proverbs 23:21 When government limits itself to defending our lives and liberty, it creates the right environment for the people to thrive and prosper. Of course, expecting government to limit itself is like handing a chocoholic a Hershey bar and just hoping for the best. We haven’t been getting “the best.” The government, binging on its own power, has insinuated itself into every aspect of life. Bureaucrats tell our children what they can eat in school (even if the kids refuse to eat it), they tell us how large our soft drinks can be (I can’t imagine that’s what the Founders had in mind), they shut down kids’ “illegal” lemonade stands for not having a proper permit (!), and apparently they can even force us to bake cakes for events that some find immoral or wrong. Too many people in government think it is their job to tell you what to do, what to think, and how to behave. Every bureaucrat operates under the assumption that he knows best how individual citizens should lead their lives. But that’s not what freedom is all about. SWEET FREEDOM IN Action Today, if you have children or grandchildren, encourage them in the principle of self-reliance. Remember that whenever you—or they—get that feeling that “something must be done,” you should resist the temptation of turning to government, and instead do it yourself. You can make a heck of a lot better decisions for your family than government ever can.

Sure you don't want another helping?" I made a classic French blanquette de veau, an old-school veal stew with a white wine sauce, served over wide pappardelle noodles that I tossed with butter, lemon zest, and chives, and some steamed green beans. I also made a loaf of crusty bread using the no-knead recipe that everyone is doing these days and is so simple and so delicious. "I think three plates is plenty!" Glenn laughs. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I saw some dessert in there, so I had better leave a sliver of room." "You got me there." I made a fallen chocolate soufflé cake filled with chocolate mousse. Mrs. O'Connor always talked about being married to a chocoholic: apparently Glenn believes that if it isn't chocolate, it isn't dessert. While he will happily eat any dessert placed in front of him, from fruit pies to vanilla ice cream, if there is no chocolate, he will literally stop on the way home for a Hershey bar or a drive-through chocolate milk shake.

Oscar Villadolid, a boy at the time, remembers a familiar scene from the aftermath of Manila’s “liberation.” A GI came down his street handing out cigarettes and Hershey bars. Speaking slowly, he asked Villadolid’s name. When Villadolid replied easily in English, the soldier was startled. “How’d ya learn American?” he asked. Villadolid explained that when the United States colonized the Philippines, it had instituted English in the schools. This only compounded the GI’s confusion. “He did not even know that America had a colony here in the Philippines!” Villadolid marveled. Take a moment to let that sink in. This was a soldier who had taken a long journey across the Pacific. He’d been briefed on his mission, shown maps, told where to go and whom to shoot. Yet at no point had it dawned on him that he was preparing to save a U.S. colony and that the people he would encounter there were, just like him, U.S. nationals. He thought he was invading a foreign country.

We are doing 55 on Indiana 65. Jasper County. Flooded fields. Iroquois River spread way out, wide and brown as a Hershey bar. Distances in this glacier-flattened planed-down ground-level ground aren't blue, but whitish, and the sky is whitish-blue. It's in the eighties at 9:30 in the morning, the air is soft and humid, and the wind darkens the flooded fields between rows of oaks. Watch Your Speed - We Are. Severely clean white farmhouses inside square white fences painted by Tom Sawyer yesterday produce a smell of dung. A rich and heavy smell of dung on the southwest wind. Can shit be heady? La merde majestueuse. This is the "Old Northwest." Not very old, not very north, not very west. And in Indiana there are no Indians. Wabash River right up to the road and the oaks are standing ten feet out in the brown shadowmottled flood, but the man at the diesel station just says: You should of seen her yesterday. The essence is motion being in motion moving on not resting at a point: and so by catching at points and letting them go again without recurrence or rhyme or rhythm I attempt to suggest or imitate that essence the essence of which is that you cannot catch it. Of course there are other continuities: the other aspect of the essence of moving on. The county courthouses. Kids on bikes. White frame houses with high sashed windows. Dipping telephone wires, telephone poles. The names of the dispossessed. The redwing blackbird singing to you from fencepost to fencepost. Dave and Shelley singing "You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma" on the radio. The yellow weedy clover by the road. The flowering grasses. And the crow, not the Indian, the bird, you seen one crow you seen 'em all, kronk kronk. CHEW MAIL POUCH TOBACCO TREAT YOURSELF TO THE BEST on an old plank barn, the letters half worn off, and that's a continuity, not only in space but time: my California in the thirties, & I at six years old would read the sign and imagine a Pony Express rider at full gallop eating a candy cigarette. Lafayette Greencastle And the roadsign points: Left to Indianapolis Right to Brazil. Now there's some choice.

I was not above filching empty candy bar wrappers from trash bins at the park or picking up the back cards of batteries from store parking lots. My children all sported Hershey shirts but ate very few of the required candy bars themselves to get them. Trips to the pool were the most rewarding, where candy was sold at the concession stand and the trash receptacles were overflowing with wrappers. On neighborhood trash day, the children and I walked up and down the alleys, where we confiscated extra Pampers points to send in for savings bonds and toys. Even the tennis shoes my children wore on these jaunts were obtained free from the Huggies diaper company.

GIs were good for a Hershey’s bar.