That's the trouble with caring about anybody, you begin to feel overprotective. Then you begin to feel crowded.

What is the past, after all, but a vast sheet of darkness in which a few moments, pricked apparently at random, shine?

Money is like water in a leaky bucket: no sooner there, it begins to drip.

President George] Bush talked to us like we were a bunch of morons and we ate it up. Can you imagine, the Pledge of Allegiance, read my lips-can you imagine such crap in this day and age?

You always find things you didn't know you were going to say, and that is the adventure.

Women, fire in their crotch, won't burn out, begin by fighting off pricks, end by going wild hunting for one that still works.

What other sport holds out hope of improvement to a man or a woman over fifty? True, the pros begin to falter at around forty, but it is their putting nerves that go, not their swings. For a duffer like [me], the room for improvement is so vast that three lifetimes could be spent roaming the fiarways carving away at it, convinced that perfection lies just over the next rise. And that hope, perhaps, is the kindest bliss of all that golf bestows upon its devotees.