[to Molly] "Fuck." "Shit." These are technical golf terms. You're using them on your first lesson. This is promising.

Does my inner child need a spanking?

[to Boone, who doesn't want to wager his car] That's because you think of it as transportation, Boone. Think of it as bragging rights. Think of yourself sitting around the bar, crowing to your cronies about the Cadillac you won from me. They'll forget all about the Winnebago you lost to me.

[to Molly] I'm going to qualify for the U.S. Open and kick your boyfriend's ass. Whatever you think of me, you should know he hates old people, children, and dogs.

Way I'm swinging today, nothing bugs me except insufficient applause.

You know someone once said that golf and sex are the only two things you don't have to be good at to enjoy.

Well, what the hell? You ride her until she bucks you or don't ride at all.

I can always tell when someone's lying to himself. But I'm susceptible and frequently wrong when a person lies to me.

Why do men always insist on measuring their dicks?

I find him... mildly attractive when he's obnoxious and arrogant like this.