Every agency you’re going to meet with feels qualified to advertise the Hershey bar because the product itself is one of the most successful billboards of all time. And its relationship with America is so overwhelmingly positive. Everyone in this room has their story to tell. It could be rations in the heat of battle, or in the movie theater on a first date. But most of them are from childhood. Mine was my father taking me to the drug store after I’d mowed the lawn and telling me I could have anything I wanted. There was a lot and I picked a Hershey Bar. The wrapper looked like what was inside. And as I ripped it open my father tasseled my hair and forever his love and chocolate were forever tied together. That’s the story we’re going to tell. Hershey’s is the currency of affection. It’s the childhood symbol of love...

I’m sorry, I have to say this because I don’t know if I’m going to see you again.

I was an orphan. I grew up in Pennsylvania… in a whorehouse. I read about Milton Hershey and his school in Coronet magazine or some other crap that girls left by the toilet. And I read that some orphans have a different life there. I could picture it. I dreamt of it—of being wanted. Because the woman that raised me looked at me everyday like she hoped I’d disappear. Closest I got to feeling wanted was from a girl who made me go through her Johns’ pockets while they screwed. If I collected more than a dollar she bought me a Hershey Bar. And I would eat it alone in my room with great ceremony. Feeling like a normal kid. It said sweet on the package. It was the only sweet thing in my life.

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If you don’t like what’s being said, change the conversation.

Dots stick to my teeth.

Count me in the group that cannot stand it. It's only a half step away from the joke that is white "chocolate" to me.

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There are only two examples of infinity: The universe and human stupidity and I'm not sure about the universe.