Wanderlei Silva, six feet tall and 205 pounds, boy, until I met you, I didn't know they could stack crap that high.

When Anderson walks into a room, you can hear a rat pissing on cotton.

If Michael Bisping ever addresses me in a public comment again, I will bury him where he stands.

If I had nothing to do and I wanted to sit in a dark room and relax, I could at times. But to be busy is very nice. To have things to do and have a schedule.

I don't do camps. Camps are for kids. I don't sleep in tents or roast marshmallows. I certainly don't tell ghost stories or own a sleeping bag. But I do work hard every single day.

Machida is not a bad guy; he's a victim of the brazilian education system. There are better ways to get electrolytes than drinking piss.

Listen Wanderlei, I will do a home invasion on you. I will cut the power to your house and the next thing you'll hear is me climbing up your stairs in a pair of night vision goggles I bought in the back of Soldier of Fortune magazine. I'll pick the lock to the master room door, take a picture of you in bed with the Nogueira brothers working on your 'jiu-jitsu'. I'll take said quote unquote photograph, post it at dorksfrombrazil.com, password - not required, username - not required. That, Wanderlei, is how you threaten someone. Dummy.