Common sense is so very simple but very difficult to grasp.

I was very dedicated and serious about fighting. I'd read about all the fighters. I found out where they came from, knew about their mothers and their fathers . . . I just read all about their lives, their training.

When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.

I never saw my mother happy with me and proud of me for doing something: She only knew me as being a wild kid running the streets, coming home with new clothes that she knew I didn't pay for. I never got a chance to talk to her or know about her. Professionally, it has no effect, but it's crushing emotionally and personally.

I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all.

There's nothing wrong with making mistakes, just don't make the same ones. We don't want to duplicate them.

That's all they said was wrong with me?