I go into every game thinking I'm going to be the hero. I have to, or I wouldn't enjoy it.

My office is at Yankee stadium. Yes, dreams do come true.

I think everyone is ticklish. You just gotta find the right spots.

I love it when people doubt me. It makes me work harder to prove them wrong.

I have the greatest job in the world. Only one person can have it. You have shortstops on other teams - I'm not knocking other teams - but there's only one shortstop on the Yankees.

Surround yourself with good people. People who are going to be honest with you and look out for your best interests.

There may be people who have more talent than you, but there's no excuse for anyone to work harder than you do - and I believe that.

This is why you play - to get an opportunity to play in the playoffs.

The last thing you want to do is finish playing or doing anything and wish you would have worked harder.

I'm not perfect; no one is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. I think you try to learn from those mistakes.

You don't just accidentally show up in the World Series.

If industrialism, with its faster pace of life, has accelerated the family cycle, super-industrialism now threatens to smash it altogether.

God created the world just like a knife and left it up to us to take it by the handle or the blade.

I started working at Hanna-Barbera in '92 on 2 Stupid Dogs.

The police must obey the law while enforcing the law.

America: the only country in the world where failing to promote yourself is regarded as being arrogant.

What makes Will the best father in the world to me is that he's there, not just there in a way that's traditional. The emotional support he offers his children is immeasurable.

In portraits, the grace and, we may add, the likeness consists more in taking the general air than in observing the exact similitude of every feature.

His shoulder bumped mine again. "Can I ask you something?" I didn't answer. He was going to ask me anyway. People don't say that if they don't want to pry something out of you.

We now know that memories are not fixed or frozen, like Proust's jars of preserves in a larder, but are transformed, disassembled, reassembled, and recategorized with every act of recollection.

To understand just one life you have to swallow the world ... do you wonder, then, that I was a heavy child?