When John-Joseph Heller's fights became too much of a sure thing, story has it he moved on to more risky fights with grown men and even starved dogs. Though he was scarred often, he was never beaten. But as he brought each opponent to his knees, John-Joseph Heller was also growing up and his vision began to extend further than the ring.

I'm always homesick for the journey,” I had once written in ink speckled script, adding almost as an afterthought, “...no matter what it may hold.

There are creatures in this world, small things and pretty things, which burn within them a fire for survival.

That is the difference between great men and small, we great are willing to do the hard things, the uncomfortable things to ensure we succeed.

What do you mean, my life is at risk?" I questioned. "From one of the other professors?""Oh, it goes much deeper than that, Freddy," he said with a half crazed, wide eyed smile. Leaning in, he whispered, "I stole something.

Not another word, not another thought, not another sniffle. If you need to pass gas, I pray you'll clench your backside and keep walking until we are certainly alone.

The tools of their trade were simple, effective things: iron knuckles, saps and the like. But the iconic tool of the scuttler arsenal was a woven leather belt with a heavy iron or brass buckle used to decrease intelligence one wallop at a time.