Nobody can prepare you for the loss of a parent.
What could be better than walking down any street in any city and knowing you're the heavyweight champion of the world?
I'd be conceited if I said I could, but I'd be lying if I said I couldn't.
I have always adhered to two principles. The first one is to train hard and get in the best possible physical condition. The second is to forget all about the other fellow until you face him in the ring and the bell sounds for the fight.
To win takes a complete commitment of mind and body. When you can't make that commitment, they don't call you a champion anymore.
Why waltz with a guy for 10 rounds if you can knock him out in one?
There is no doubt that man is a competitive animal and there is no place where this fact is more obvious than in the ring. There is no second place. Either you win or you lose. When they call you a champion, it's because you don't lose. To win takes a complete commitment of mind and body.
Kundalini cures you, she improves you, she bestows all the blissful things upon you. She takes you away from the worries of grosser level.
Society wants to put us in a box and say, OK, you do this and you do that and you do this, and I'm like, no, I like this, I like that.
While I have the utmost respect for people who practice the Christian faith, the fact is, as everyone knows, I am as Jewish as a matzo ball or kosher salami.
But we are so fond of life that we have no leisure to entertain the terror of death. It is a honeymoon with us all through, and none of the longest. Small blame to us if we give our whole hearts to this glowing bride of ours, to the appetities, to honour, to the hungry curiosity of the mind, to the pleasure of the eyes in nature, and the pride of our own nimble bodies.