Boxing is beautiful brutality, and the devil is in the duality. Boxing is a tug of war and you recognize the antithetical feelings that are pulling you from the other end.

Simplicity matters. Especially when it comes to the muscle memory of boxing. That is perhaps rule number one. Simplicity works. Simplicity is repetition. Repetition is function. Boil function down to one action, maybe two. Left or right. Simplicity. Simplicity is really the hardest thing.

To be a boxer is to be within yourself, inside your thoughts and feelings.

After you have seasoned your gloves with the blood, sweat and tears of your opponents, all else is anticlimactic.

Boxing is the most extreme metaphor of personal liability – you enter the ring alone and compete the same way.

Boxing encompasses the very worst and very best of human nature and its beautiful brutality is a marvelous contradiction for a writer. It conjures up so many irreconcilably antagonistic feelings.

Boxing begins in illusion and ends in real blood and tears. That's what makes it so beautiful.