This is where God hangs out.

When I putt, my emotions collide like tectonic plates. It's left my memory circuits full of scars that won't heal.

One minute you're bleeding. The next minute you're hemorrhaging. The next minute you're painting the Mona Lisa.

The amateur has an infectious, contagious enthusiasm for golf and life.

This is where God hangs out.

You must attain a neurological and biological serenity in chaos. You cannot let yourself be sabotaged by adrenaline.

I developed osteoporosis of the personality. My thought processes became brittle.