I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat, and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?

I knew I was going to take the wrong train, so I left early.

I think they just got through marinating the greens.

I guess that's the earliest I've ever been late.

He who fears being conquered is certain of defeat.

Everything looks like a failure in the middle.

One might call habit a moral friction: something that prevents the mind from gliding over things but connects it with them and makes it hard for it to free its…