I'm a bad guy. But if I was a good guy, nobody would want to pay to see me fight.

I never think of physical fighting. It's always spiritual. Fighting is spiritual.

Cus was my father but he was more than a father. You can have a father and what does it mean?—it doesn't really mean anything. Cus was my backbone . . . . He did everything for my best interest . . . . We'd spend all our time together, talk about things that, later on, would come back to me. Like about character, and courage. Like the hero and the coward: that the hero and the coward both feel the same thing, but the hero uses his fear, projects it onto his opponent, while the coward runs. It's the same thing, fear, but it's what you do with it that matters.

I'm a Muslim, but I think Jesus would have a drink with me. He would be cool. He would talk to me.

It's good to know how to read, but it's dangerous to know how to read and not how to interpret what you're reading.

Fighting is spiritual. It appears to be physical from the layman's eyes. In my fights, I seemed to be angry and mad - all that stuff you saw me doing, the yelling and screaming and being mean in the ring - but I'm cool as a cucumber. I can hear everybody talking around me outside of the ring. I can see everybody. I know what is going on.

Everybody in boxing probably makes out well except for the fighter.