A Quote by Jack Lemmon

I was lying ten and had a thirty-five foot putt. I whispered over my shoulder: "How does this one break?" And my caddie said, "Who cares?" — © Jack Lemmon
I was lying ten and had a thirty-five foot putt. I whispered over my shoulder: "How does this one break?" And my caddie said, "Who cares?"
To sink a six-foot putt with thirty million people looking over your shoulder, convince yourself that, if you miss it, you will be embarrassed and poor.
Pressure is when you've got thirty-five bucks riding on a four-foot putt and you've only got five dollars left.
A 3-foot putt can be more nerve-racking than a 9-foot putt because a 3-foot putt you should be getting in. A 9-footer, there's a chance it won't go in.
How did I make a twelve on a par five hole? It's simple - I missed a four foot putt for an eleven.
But, no, I don't feel my career has not been fulfilled because I didn't win the US Open. It's like the guy said: You going to crucify a man because he missed a putt to win a tournament? Does a three-foot putt mean his whole life? Another guy said, well, he couldn't win the big one. Well, Jesus, what do you call those others? What's big and what's small?
No one cares what I think about a 6-foot putt. They care what Ian Baker-Finch thinks.
People are always spewing this horseshit about how age doesn't matter. Well, it does matter! I'm thirty-five, and I'm happy to be thirty-five. I can't pretend I'm still a snot-nosed 21-year-old.
Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried.
When Sam Snead was asked how to putt, he said, 'Putt for one hundred dollars'.
I didn't become a caddie because I wanted to be a caddie. I was a caddie because that was how I could make money and feed myself. It was work. It was a dignified job.
Ladies, stock and tend your hive, Trifle not at thirty-five; For, howe'er we boast and strive, Life declines from thirty-five; He that ever hopes to thrive Must begin by thirty-five.
If ever I needed an eight foot putt, and everything I owned depended on it, I would want Arnold Palmer to putt for me.
I shot a wild elephant in Africa thirty yards from me, and it didn't hit the ground until it was right at my feet. I wasn't a bit scared. But a four foot putt scares me to death.
I don't know why that putt hung on the edge. I'm a clean liver. It must be my caddie.
I can't putt. The reasons are infinite. When lining up a putt, I can't remember if the ball always breaks to the ocean or to the valley or away from Pinnacle Peak. And because I took up the game in Minnesota, in what is often called Middle America, I also grew up asking, 'To which ocean does it break?'
A friend asked her doctor if a woman should have children after thirty-five. I said, "Thirty-five children is enough for any woman.
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