Life is like a box of chocolates: sure, it starts out nice a pretty and perfect full of potential and opportunity. At first, everything is new and a scrumptious taste treat. Then you pop your first (chocolate-covered) cherry and you realize that some of those possibilities are even better than the others. But you never know until you actually go for it. Just looking at it doesn't tell you how it is going to be; you have to commit. After a while, though, even your favorite one doesn't quite get the job done: that tenth turtle just doesn't taste as good as the first turtle did. Later, with all the good stuff picked over, you realize how much youth is wasted on the young. Oh, why didn't I save some of the best ones? Why didn't I appreciate more then what I don't have any more of now? Eventually life is a picked-over box of stuff that might once have been chocolate, but now is moldy white-crusted crumbs in crinkled wrappers, and hard-centered ones that people tried to bite into and then put back in the box. Then you die.