“Ain’t no man can avoid being born average, but there ain’t no man got to be common.”

I don’t generally like running. I believe in training by rising gently up and down from the bench.

Age is a case of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter.

Just take the ball and throw it where you want to. Throw strikes. Home plate don’t move.

Don’t pray when it rains if you don’t pray when the sun shines.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a a hundred times, I’m forty-four years old.

When a batter swings and I see his knees move, I can tell just what his weaknesses are then I just put the ball where I know he can’t hit it.

I never threw an illegal pitch. The trouble is, once in a while I toss one that ain’t never been seen by this generation.

Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.

I never rush myself. See, they can’t start the game without me.

Airplanes may kill you, but they ain’t likely to hurt you.

I was born in August, no July, 1908.

My feet ain’t got nothing to do with my nickname, but when folks get it in their heads that a feller’s got big feet, soon the feet start looking big.

My pitching philosophy is simple – keep the ball way from the bat.

It’s funny what a few no-hitters do for a body.

Avoid fried foods, which angry up the blood.

If your stomach disputes you, lie down and pacify it with cool thoughts.