This was Kurt Vonnegut's commencement address at MIT.

        Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:

        Wear sunscreen.

        If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it.
        The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists,
        whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own
        meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

        Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will
not
        understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But
        trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and
recall
        in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and
        how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

        Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as
        effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble
gum.
        The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never
crossed
        your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 PM on some idle
        Tuesday.

        Do one thing every day that scares you.

        Sing.

        Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with
people
        who are reckless with yours.

        Floss..

        Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes
        you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with
        yourself.

        Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed
in
        doing this, tell me how.

        Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

        Stretch.

        Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your
life.
        The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they
wanted
        to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I
know
        still don't.

        Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when
        they're gone.

        Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children,
maybe
        you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky
        chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't
        congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your
choices
        are half chance. So are everybody else's.

        Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or
of
        what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll
ever
        own.

        Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

        Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

        Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

        Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for
        good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past
and
        the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

        Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you
        should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle,
        because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you
        when you were young.

        Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live
in
        Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.

        Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians
will
        philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize
        that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were
        noble, and children respected their elders.

        Respect your elders.

        Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust
fund.
        Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either
        one might run out.

        Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will
look
        85.

        Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who
supply
        it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing
the
        past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts
and
        recycling it for more than it's worth.

        But trust me on the sunscreen.