There is only one categorical imperative in golf, and that is to hit the ball. There are no minor absolutes.

Excessive golfing dwarfs the intellect. Nor is this to be wondered at when you consider that the more fatuously vacant the mind is, the better for play. It has been observed that absolute idiots play the steadiest.

The player may experiment about with his swing, his grip, his stance. It is only when he begins asking his caddie's advice that he is getting on dangerous ground.

"The caddie will only drink the more if overpaid," you say. Indeed! and to what good purpose do you apply the money you grudge to the poor? Is there something nobler in your gout and dyspepsia than in my caddie's red nose?

There is only one categorical imperative in golf, and that is to hit the ball. There are no minor absolutes.

The poetic temperament is the worst for golf. It dreams of brilliant drives, iron shots laid dead, and long putts holed, while in real golf success waits for him who takes care of the foozles and leaves the fine shots to take care of themselves.

When five up express, as is polite, regret at laying a stymie, but rejoice in your heart.