Last Year, I Was Sort

Maybe The Day Will Come When I Can Sit Back And Be Content....but Until That Day Comes, I Intend To Stay In The Batter's Box - I Don't Let The Big Guys Push Me Out Of There Anymore - And Keep Hammering Away.

I Had Many, Many, Many Death Threats. I Couldn't Open Letters For A Long Time, Because They All Had To Be Opened By Either The Fbi Or Somebody. I Couldn't Open Letters. I Had To Be Escorted. In Fact, Just Recently I Went To A Funeral, Calvin Wardlaw, Who Was The Detective -- The Policeman -- With Me For Two Years, Passed Away Just Recently. He And I Got To Be Bosom Buddies Really, But That Was The Hardest Part. I Wasn't Able To Enjoy -- You Know.

Consistency Is What Counts; You Have To Be Able To Do Things Over And Over Again.

I Don't Feel Right Unless I Have A Sport To Play Or At Least A Way To Work Up A Sweat.

I Don't Want People To Forget Babe Ruth. I Just Want Them To Remember Henry Aaron.