I adore the game of golf. I won't ever retire.

I still sweat. My guts are still grinding out there. Sometimes I have enough cotton in my mouth to knit a sweater.

We all choke, and the man who says he doesn't choke is lying like hell.

I'm a golfaholic, no question about that. Counseling wouldn't help me. They'd have to put me in prison, and then I'd talk the warden into building a hole or two and teach him how to play.

Nobody but you and your caddie care what you do out there, and if your caddie is betting against you, he doesn't care, either.

My divorce came to me as a complete surprise. That's what happens when you haven't been home in eighteen years.

A rough should have high grass. When you go bowling they don't give you anything for landing in the gutter, do they?