There is an old saying: if a man comes home with sand in his cuffs and cockleburs in his pants, don't ask him what he shot.

To quit between tee and green is more habit-forming than drinking a highball before breakfast.

Practice puts brains in your muscles.

These greens are so fast I have to hold my putter over the ball and hit it with the shadow.

Nobody asked how you looked, just what you shot.

The only place that's holier than St. Andrews is Westminster Abbey.

Keep close count of your nickels and dimes, stay away from whiskey, and never concede a putt.