Yesterday's home runs don't win today's games.

I didn't mean to hit the umpire with the dirt, but I did mean to hit that bastard in the stands.

The termites have got me.

What the hell has (Herbert) Hoover got to do with it? Anyway, I had a better year than he did.

I'll promise to go easier on drinking and to get to bed earlier, but not for you, fifty thousand dollars, or two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars will I give up women. They're too much fun.

How about a little noise. How do you expect a man to putt?

The curve and the fast one are important; the change of pace and the other trick deliveries are great but they're not worth a plugged nickel unless you have control to go along with them. And by control I don't mean the ability to put the ball over the plate somewhere between the shoulders and knees. I mean the ability to hit a three-inch target nine times out of ten, the sort of control that lets you put the ball in the exact spot you want it, and to play a corner to the split fraction of an inch.