For the first and only time, I was more worried about getting hurt by the crowd than by the guy I was fighting. I got a pretty good blast when introduced. The crowd was hollering and raising hell. I looked around for my bodyguard, a colorful New York character named Wild Bill Lyons, who packed two pearl-handled pistols and used to talk a lot about his days in the West. Wild Bill was under the ring, hiding.

Tell him he can have my title, but I want it back in the morning.

You know what a champion is? A champion is someone who's ready when the gong rings - not just before, not just after - but when it rings.

I was a pretty good fighter. But it was the writers who made me great.

Honey, I just forgot to duck.

I can't sing and I can't dance, but I can lick any S.O.B. in the house.

Champions get up when they can't.