A champion is someone who gets up when he can't.

A champion is someone who gets up when he can't.

A Gentle Man and a Gentleman.

Honey, I just forgot to duck.

Champions get up when they can't.

The best defense is a good offense.

Don't worry honey, I'm too mean to die.

Number 4 should have been number 1. Thanks, Honey.

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

Nailing him was like trying to thread a needle in a high wind.

Tell him he can have my title, but I want it back in the morning.

Nobody owes anybody a living, but everybody is entitled to a chance.

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

I can't sing and I can't dance, but I can lick any S.O.B. in the house.

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

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

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

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

You know what a champion is? A champion is someone who's ready when the gong rings - not just before, not just after - but when it rings.

I never went to bed in my life and I never ate a meal in my life without saying a prayer. I know my prayers have been answered thousands of times, and I know that I never said a prayer in my life without something good coming of it.

When I was a young fellow I was knocked down plenty. I wanted to stay down, but I couldn't. I had to collect the two dollars for winning or go hungry. I had to get up. I was one of those hungry fighters. You could have hit me on the chin with a sledgehammer for five dollars. When you haven't eaten for two days you'll understand.

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.

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