I hate deception, even where the imagination only is concerned.
Any writer worth his salt writes to please himself. . . It's a self-exploratory operation that is endless. An exorcism of not necessarily his demon, but of his divine discontent.
I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks.
This time we aren't fighting the Yankees, we're fighting our friends. But remember this, no matter how bitter things get, they're still our friends and this is still our home.
You just hold your head high and keep those fists down. No matter what anybody says to you, don't you let 'em get your goat. Try fighting with your head for a change. . .
Everybody’s gotta learn, nobody’s born knowing.
There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you. That's never possible.
In America all too few blows are struck into flesh. We kill the spirit here, we are experts at that. We use psychic bullets and kill each other cell by cell.
All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
what I remember is the silence in spite of the noise. In my head it might just as well have been a snowy day in the country.
The greatest challenge I think is adjusting to not playing baseball. The reason for that is I had to come out of baseball and come into the business world, not being a college graduate, not being educated to come into the business world the way I should have.