Hershey Kisses Quotes

When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.

Why couldn't Jesus command us to obsess over everything, to try to control and manipulate people, to try not to breathe at all, or to pay attention, stomp away to brood when people annoy us, and then eat a big bag of Hershey's Kisses in bed?

When I try to picture heaven, I see a place where it's always December, every radio station plays hair bands, and every time I check my pockets they're full of Hershey's Kisses. There's a Christmas parade on every street, every day is my birthday, and the sun always sets at 4:58 p.m.

Shay opened his palm, a Hershey's Kiss rested in his hand. Mason winked at him. ''Welcome to the table, man. I hope you survive.'' ''I think I'll manage.'' He turned the silver-wrapped chocolate in his fingers. ''Thanks for this. There's nothing quite like a really good kiss.'' His mouth crinkled in a smile and he cast me a sidelong glance, making my toes curl.

She went out with Jacob for five dates, and then they broke up. She came over that night with a tub of ice cream and a bag of Hershey's KISSES. "Comfort food?" I said. "If I needed comfort food I'd have brought two tubs of ice cream. I'm nor upset, Luce. This is what I always eat on a Friday night.

Hershey Pennsylvania was self-proclaimed as the “Sweetest Place On Earth,” but less advertised than chocolate, it was also home to one of the state’s largest Children’s Hospitals. The streets lined with Hershey Kiss–shaped streetlamps that led excited children and families on vacation to chocolate tour rides and rollercoasters were the same exact streets that led anxious children and families to x-rays and MRIs on the worsts days of their lives. Chocolate was being created on the same street that childhood diseases were being diagnosed. And that was life. The sweetest of sensations and the deepest of devastations live next door to each other.

December tastes like Hershey's Kisses. The month of December and those little Hershey's Kisses candies are connected in a way that I can't quite articulate. For me, at least. I do know that eating a Hershey's Kiss is like an act of communion - like taking a tiny taste of December into myself. I don't like to eat them at other times of the year, because I don't want that special association to fade.

Daryl sat next to Daquan and gently kissed his slumbering son on the forhead.He admired his features on the thick eyebrows they both shared.The boy had Mayc's nose and a mixture of his caramel complexion and Macy's hershey hue.

You can’t imagine the world I was born into, Geary. There’s no laughter there, no joy or happiness, and then one night I accidentally found you. You who laugh at the warmth of the sun when it touches your skin. You who have…what was it you called it once? A choco-gasm from eating a Hershey’s Kiss – whatever that is. You feel things on a level most people never imagine. In all the centuries I’ve lived, I’ve never known anything like you. And for two weeks I just wanted to be with you. To feel you, human to human, and to understand this world that is so vivid through your eyes. (Arik)

The moment the colorful papier-mâché burst, instead of Tootsie Rolls or Hershey’s Kisses, everyone present was showered with Vicodins, Darvons, Percodans, amyl nitrate ampoules, LSD stamps, and assorted barbiturates. The now-wealthy, now-middle-aged parents were ecstatic, while my little friends and I couldn’t help but feel a tad bit cheated.

Until Perry was five, the team of “Tex & Flo” continued to work the rodeo circuit. As a way of life, it wasn’t “any gallon of ice cream,” Perry once recalled: “Six of us riding in an old truck, sleeping in it, too, sometimes, living off mush and Hershey kisses and condensed milk. Hawks Brand condensed milk it was called, which is what weakened my kidneys—the sugar content—which is why I was always wetting the bed.” Yet it was not an unhappy existence, especially for a little boy proud of his parents, admiring of their showmanship and courage—a happier life, certainly, than what replaced it. For Tex and Flo, both forced by ailments to retire from their occupation, settled near Reno, Nevada.

work the rodeo circuit. As a way of life, it wasn’t “any gallon of ice cream,” Perry once recalled: “Six of us riding in an old truck, sleeping in it, too, sometimes, living off mush and Hershey kisses and condensed milk. Hawks Brand condensed milk it was called, which is what weakened my kidneys—the sugar content—which is why I was always wetting the bed.” Yet it was not an unhappy existence,

Personally, I think, so what? Money's just a thing and things change. That's what I've found. One minute something's really there, right next to you, and you can cuddle up to it. The next it just melts away, like a Hershey's kiss.

Sonny had to get rid of her once he found out, of course, but by then he’d already begun to grow weary of her. She was one of those save-the-trees, stop-global-warming, Che-is-cool-and-so-is-Obama kind of nitwits liberal universities churn out like chocolate kisses at a Hershey plant nowadays.

The girl, Gary's girl....would keep bowls of Hershey's Kisses on the coffee table, and she'd decorate the house for all the big holidays and most of the small ones. Probably she'd be class mother, and PTA president, and she'd deliver meals to the elderly once a month. In bed, she'd be exuberant, and would take it as an endorsement when Gary sweated all over her.

After Ben leaves, I head back upstairs to my room, only to find Dad in the kitchen. He has his back toward me, sneaking a bag of Bugles from one of the baskets above the cabinets. “Caught you,” I say, switching on the light, making him jump. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asks, keeping his voice low. “Shouldn’t you?” I give him a pointed look. “Probably, but your mom actually feel asleep tonight—probably the first night all week. Meanwhile, I’m too hungry to nod off.” “So, where does that leave us?” I ask, eyeing his bag of Bugles. “Can you be trusted?” “That depends. Are you willing to share?” I smile. “Good hiding spot, by the way. Nobody ever uses those baskets.” “That’s what you think.” He gazes down the hall to make sure the coast is clear and then snags a bag of Hershey’s Kisses from one of the other four overhead baskets. We park ourselves at the kitchen island and rip both bags open. Five full minutes of lusty devouring pass before either of us speaks.

You did not do my homework assignment for me,” he said, grabbing the collage again and looking it over. “I had insomnia,” I said. “I needed a creative activity.” Marlboro Man looked at me, seemingly unsure of whether to kiss me, thank me…or just tickle me some more. I didn’t give him a chance. Instead I picked up the collage and took Marlboro Man on a tour so he’d be prepared for our appointment. “Here’s a pack of cigarettes,” I said. “Because I used to smoke in college.” “Uh-huh,” he answered. “I knew that.” “And here’s a glass of white wine,” I continued. “Because…I love white wine.” “Yes, I’ve noticed,” Marlboro Man answered. “But…won’t Father Johnson have a problem with that being on there?” “Nah…,” I said. “He’s Episcopalian.” “Got it,” he said. I continued with my collage orientation, pointing out the swatch of my favorite shade of turquoise…the pug…the ballet shoe…the Hershey’s Kiss. He watched and listened intently, prepping himself for Father Johnson’s upcoming grilling. Gradually the earliness of the morning and the cozy warmth of my bedroom got the better of us, and before we knew it we’d sunk into the irresistible softness of my bed, our arms and legs caught in a tangled maze. “I think I love you,” his raspy voice whispered, his lips nearly touching my ear. His arms wrapped even more tightly around my body, swallowing me almost completely.

I want to have a case of breads over there- whole wheat, rye- and English muffins, and cranberry-nut, blueberry-lemon, and white chocolate raspberry muffins over there. I want a table in the middle filled with nothing but cookies- the dark-chocolate-walnut-toffee ones, coconut macaroons, peanut butter drops with the little Hershey's Kisses in the middle, and sugar cookies. And then on the left, I'm thinking pies: apple, peach, and cherry daily, and maybe chocolate cream espresso for special occasions. Plus, I want to have a wall for all different kinds of specials. Maybe a certain bread- like Irish soda bread for St. Patrick's Day, fruitcake for Christmas, or challah bread for Passover- whatever.

Free” has an incredible power that no other pricing does. The Duke behavioral economist Dan Ariely wrote about the power of free in his excellent book Predictably Irrational, describing an experiment in which he offered research subjects the choice of a Lindt chocolate truffle for 15 cents or a Hershey’s Kiss for a mere penny. Nearly three-fourths of the subjects chose the premium truffle rather than the humble Kiss. But when Ariely changed the pricing so that the truffle cost 14 cents and the Kiss was free—the same price differential—more than two-thirds of the subjects chose the inferior (but free) Kisses. The incredible power of free makes it a valuable tool for distribution and virality. It also plays an important role in jump-starting network effects by helping a product achieve the critical mass of users that is required for those effects to kick in. At LinkedIn, we knew that our basic accounts had to be free if we wanted to get to the million users we theorized represented critical mass. Sometimes you can offer a product for free and still be profitable; in the advertising-driven business model, a large enough mass of free users can be valuable even if they never pay for your service. Facebook, for example, doesn’t charge its users a dime, but it is able to generate large amounts of high-gross-margin revenue by selling targeted advertising. But sometimes a product doesn’t lend itself to the advertising model, as is the case with many services used by students and educators. Without third-party revenue, the problem with offering your product to users for free is that you can’t offset your lack of sales by “making it up in volume.

Audre plopped down on Cece’s lap. “Try chocolate meditation. You stick a Hershey’s Kiss in your mouth and sit quietly, letting it melt. No chewing. It’s about mindfulness.

Mrs. Marva lead Charlie around the home and her eyes grew wider with each new room. It wasn’t a large home, but to Charlie’s Hershey-kiss-colored eyes, at less than five feet from the floor, it was a mansion.

...peppermint kisses are delicious.” He laughs, exhaling a warm puff of air across my neck. “Did you know that they are in fact called ‘Hershey’s Kisses Candy Cane Mint Candies,’ and they’re ‘white creme and the refreshing crunch of peppermint’?” He kisses my throat. “Which means, of course, they aren’t technically white chocolate. I don’t have to shame you for loving them anymore.” “Wow, thank you.

Look at that giant bag of peppermint Hershey’s Kisses. That is my dream right there. I could live off that for a month.” He follows my attention to the five-pound bag on display and gives a dramatic shudder. “You’re kidding.” “They’re my favorite! I can only find them this time of year, and I eat so many I get a stomachache.” Andrew turns in my arms, frowning down at me. “Are you a white chocolate evangelist?” “One hundred percent!” I laugh-yell. “Oh my God, are we having our first fight?” “I will die on the White Chocolate Is Not Chocolate hill.” “It may not be chocolate, but it is delicious.” “Wrong, Maisie,” he says in Mandrew voice. “It tastes like fake mint and ass.” “Like fake mint and ass?” I reply in outraged Maisie voice. “You’re the one who steals the crappy, plasticky chocolate from the Advent calendar.” “Well . . . it’s hard to argue with that.

Fifth grade,” I began. “That year Kristy, Mary Anne, Alan, and I were all in the same class. Kristy really got Alan. He’d been tormenting us—all the girls, really—for the entire year, and by June we had had it. So one day, Kristy comes to school and all morning she brags about this fantastic lunch her mother has packed: a chocolate cupcake, Fritos, fruit salad, a ham and cheese sandwich, two Hershey’s Kisses—really great stuff. Kristy says it’s a reward for something or other. And she says the lunch is so great she’s got to protect it by keeping it in her desk instead of in the coat room. So, of course, Alan steals the bag out of her desk during the morning. Then at noontime in the cafeteria, he makes this big production out of opening it. He’s sitting at the boys’ table, and they’re all crowded around, and us girls are looking on from the next table. Alan is the center of attention, which is just what he wants.” “And just what I wanted,” added Kristy. “Right. So Alan carefully takes all the packages and containers out of the bag and spreads them in front of him. Then he begins to open them. In one he finds dead spiders, in another he finds a mud pie.” “David Michael had made it for me,” said Kristy. (David Michael is Kristy’s little brother. He was four then.) “She’d even wrapped up a sandwich with fake flies stuck on it.” Stacey began to giggle. “It was great,” said Mary Anne. “Everyone was laughing. And Kristy had packed a real lunch for herself, which she’d kept in the coat room. All afternoon, the kids kept telling her how terrific her trick had been.

Those are not shit symbols, baby. They are Hershey’s Kisses. Or so she thinks.

Megan reaches into her backpack and pulls out two Hershey’s Kisses. “Want one?” she asks. I take it, peel off the green foil, and pop it into my mouth. “Thanks. Are these the Christmas ones?” She laughs. “Yeah. I keep them in the freezer for”—she hesitates—“you know, that time of the month.” Normally I would nod in agreement and lie and say I also have a freezer full of chocolate for my time of the month, but Megan is like a human truth serum. For some reason, she makes me want to tell her the truth. I lean over and whisper in her ear, “I don’t have mine yet.