Boxing Is Fascinating. It's Good For The

Success On A Cosmic Level Completely Eludes Me. I'm Deeply Suspicious Of Things Being Too Good. It's Part Of My Superstition, I Think, To Generate Pain In Order To Give The Illusion Of Gain. I'm Not Saying I Reject Success, But Honestly, I Don't Quite Know How To Deal With It. It's An Old Feeling: As Soon As You Have The Thing You've Been Going After All Your Life, That Reasonable Degree Of Security, You Start Kicking Against It, Doubting It.

It Was The Sheer Variety Of The Pain That Stopped Me From Crying Out. It Came From So Many Places, Spoke So Many Languages, Wore So Many Dazzling Varieties Of Ethnic Costume, That For A Full Fifteen Seconds I Could Only Hang My Jaw In Amazement.

I Am Very, Very Aware At All Times. I'm Watching Myself, I'm Listening To Myself, I'm Judging Myself, Critiquing Myself All The Time, And I Will Know When I Do Something And I Will Immediately Say, "can I Do Another One, Because I Didn't Quite Get That Thing," Or That I Wanted To Do Something There And It Didn't Quite Work.

When School Friends Would Think About Appearing On Stage As The Most Frightening, The Most Awful, Intimidating Experience Ever, I Knew That It Was Something I Could Do.

Driving A Motorcycle Is Like Flying. All Your Senses Are Alive.