Maybe love, like suffering, is relative.
I always think street but train sport.
I pursue this dream and carry on. I don't dwell too much on the outside, I just focus on the inside.
Pain is part of the sport.
Fourteen weeks before the Mendes fight I tore 80 per cent of my ACL [anterior cruciate ligament]. That is the main ligament for stability. Every day in that training camp when I was working my way back, I was saying "real champions fight through any adversity". That is why I am a real champion and he is not. Look at my eye [he had seven stitches put in an old wound after an injury in training the night before we met]. Fighters fight on. Aldo got scared, he went running and I worry he will run again.
I don't believe in talent. Talent doesn't exist.
Real champions fight through adversity.
Israel was always on my bucket list, it was always one of those places that you check off and move onto the next place, but I'm never going to check Israel off my list. It's a place I'm always going to want to come back to.
Love is the key to the mystery. Love by its very nature is not selfish, but generous. It seeks not its own, but the good of others. The measure of love is not the pleasure it gives-that is the way the world judges it-but the joy and peace it can purchase for others.
There is no doubt that many things in life come to us. . . at backrounds so to speak. Happiness is one of them.
I love irony in pictures. There's one photograph from Vietnam by Philip Jones Griffiths that shows a very large GI having his pocket picked by a tiny Vietnamese woman. It told the whole story of the clash of two cultures and how the invader could never win.