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

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.

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.

God watches over drunks and third baseman.

To us a single act of injustice–cheating in business, exploitation of the poor–is slight; to the prophets, a disaster.

But to get your pleasure from not taking, from cheating yourself deliberately like my brother did today, from not getting, from not taking.

Indeed, the sort of crimes and even the amount of delinquency that fill the prophets of Israel with dismay do not go beyond that which we regard as normal, as typical ingredients of social dynamics.

Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!

When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.

A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.

There is no rampart that will hold out against malice.

There’s just enough drinking and cheating songs around without me adding to them. Unless you’ve got something better than “Misery and Gin” by Merle Haggard, you’re beating a dead horse.