“God watches over drunks and third baseman.”

You can’t get any pictures from way back there.

Buy a steak for a player on another club after the game, but don’t even speak to him on the field. Get out there and beat them to death.

I never did say that you can’t be a nice guy and win. I said that if I was playing third base and my mother rounded third with the winning run, I’d trip her up.

Some guys are admired for coming to play, as the saying goes. I prefer those who come to kill.

Nobody ever won a pennant without a star shortstop.

Give me some scratching, diving, hungry ballplayers who come to kill you.

In the olden days, the umpire didn’t have to take any courses in mind reading. The pitcher told you he was going to throw at you.

I believe in rules. Sure I do. If there weren’t any rules, how could you break them?

Winning is a habit.

As long as I’ve got a chance to beat you I’m going to take it.

There are only five things you can do in baseball – run, throw, catch, hit and hit with power.

Win any way you can as long as you can get away with it.

You argue with the umpire because there is nothing else you can do about it.

What are we out at the park for, except to win?

I made a game effort to argue but two things were against me: the umpires and the rules.

If you don’t win, you’re going to be fired. If you do win, you’ve only put off the day you’re going to be fired.

The age seems sore from excess of stimulation, just as a day or two after a thorough Debauch and long sustained Drinking-match a man feels all over like a Bruise.

Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.

Those who practice know whether realization is attained or not, just as those who drink water know whether it is hot or cold

I, being a revolutionist, know exactly what I want — and what I want now is a drink.

Late hours, nocturnal cigars, and midnight drinkings, pleasurable though they may be, consume too quickly the free-flowing lamps of youth, and are fatal at once to the husbanded candle-ends of age.

What’s drinking? A mere pause from thinking!

I drink the wine of aspiration and the drug of illusion. Thus I am never dull.

Life is a straight drink – straight pleasure, straight pain, straightforward, one hundred percent.