When you listen to someone improvise, the notes that are played are only half the story.
A detailed analysis of his four-putt at the 1986 Masters: I miss the putt. I miss the putt. I miss the putt. I make.
I look into eyes, shake their hand, pat their back, and wish them luck, but I am thinking, I am going to bury you.
To give yourself the best possible chance of playing to your potential, you must prepare for every eventuality. That means practice.
I'd like to see the fairways more narrow. Then everybody would have to play from the rough, not just me.
I miss. I miss. I miss. I make.
If you ever feel sorry for somebody on a golf course, you better go home. If you don't kill them, they'll kill you.
The time has now come for every Latter-day Saint. . . to do the will of the Lord and to pay his tithing in full. That is the word of the Lord to you.
As concerning football, I protest unto you that it may rather be called a friendly kind of fight than a play or recreation - a bloody and murdering practise than a fellowly sport or pastime.
I didn't get my licence because I wasn't allowed to. But I haven't had a seizure for a long time so I could, theoretically, get my licence. But I'm now just so used to not driving, I'm scared of what I'd do.
I have to say that flying on Air Force One sort of spoils you for coach on a regular airline.