I like the hip writers: Fitzgerald, the guy who committed suicide, Hemingway, all those guys. Some of them were alcoholics and drug addicts but they had fun. They were real people. They formed the culture of American literature. Hemingway admired Tolstoy, Tolstoy admired Pushkin, and Mailer admired Hemingway. It all flows down. The greats are all connected. One day I'm gonna write a book myself. The first chapter will be about what a rough deal my momma got. She believed in you guys and your society.

I'll go back and take what the people owe me.

[Sometimes I] put on a ski mask and dress in old clothes, go out on the streets and beg for quarters.

He was screaming like my wife.

I try to catch them right on the tip of his nose, because I try to punch the bone into the brain.

My objective was to hurt the other fighters. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to be merciless. Man, I was a wild thing. It's kind of a drug, a rush.

My power is discombobulatingly devastating. It's ludricrous these mortals even attempt to enter my realm.