I feel better than I did when I was walking around Quail Hollow at the Wachovia Championship in May, but I don't think we're out of the woods.

I feel better than I did when I was walking around Quail Hollow at the Wachovia Championship in May, but I don't think we're out of the woods,

You'll feel like you're walking on Mars when you look through our rooftop telescope,

You'll feel like you're walking on Mars when you look through our rooftop telescope.

[Rumors were swirling at Quail Hollow that Tiger Woods was a late arrival because he stopped over at Pinehurst No. 2, about two hours away, where the U.S. Open will be played next month. Not true.] The last time I was there it was raining and I missed a putt on the 18th, ... No, I'm not thinking about that. You can't think about that unless you've won the first three and get to the last one. You've got to take it one step at a time.

Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of cockolds; a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg, to what form but that he is should wit larded with malice and malice forced with wit turn him to? To an ass, were nothing; he is both ass and ox: to an ox, were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without roe, I would not care; but to be Memelaus! I would conspire against destiny.