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.

Champions get up when they can't.

By forgetting the past and by throwing myself into other interests, I forget to worry.

A champion owes everybody something. He can never pay back for all the help he got, for making him an idol.

Honey, I just forgot to duck.

Tall men come down to my height when I hit 'em in the body.

A Gentle Man and a Gentleman.