All the time he's boxing, he's thinking. All the time he was thinking, I was hitting him.

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.

A good fighter usually knows, to within a very few seconds, when a three-minute round is going to end.

All the time he's boxing, he's thinking. All the time he was thinking, I was hitting him.

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

The best defense is a good offense.

Champions get up when they can't.