“I like to look good, my friend.”

Posture for combat is so vital.

I want to be financially secure by the time I have kids.

At 155, I will be the same animal, an even better animal.

People think hard sparring will get you sharp. And you do get sharp in the gym. But anytime I’ve trained that way, I’ve actually been a little bit flatter in the fight. And the knockout shot hasn’t come. It’s almost because my training has been too hard.

I certainly would not like to end up in a tie-up with Ms. Rousey.

Everything I’ve been thinking, every vision, even down to every shot I throw, it just ends up here in reality.

Ritual is another word for fear, manifested in a different way.

I don’t care about other sports. I don’t care about anything I don’t need to care about. This is my sport: it is my life. I study it; I think about it all the time. Nothing else matters.

People think I’m a celebrity. I’m not a celebrity.

We come bulletproof in Ireland. We’re reared tough, and we fight.

I’ve learned new footwork patterns that are very unusual. I’ve learned how to find a lower centre of gravity, and I’ve found more angles to throw shots.

I have the greatest job in the world. I get paid loads of cash for beating the crap out of people. And I’m very good at it.

I never got into training to be an All-Ireland boxing champ or to win a belt. At the start, I just got into it to learn how to defend myself when I got into situations.

Not a lot of people or pros in this game know how to train correctly. That’s why they don’t have a long career. Their body gets banged up. They get into a rhythm of heavy sparring and heavy work, but through that, they’re limiting movement.

What can I say? I’m a talker.

I see fighters make funny videos about me and stick them on Facebook and get 20 likes.

In private conversation between intimate friends, the wisest men very often talk like the weakest : for indeed the talking with a friend is nothing else but thinking aloud.

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.

Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.

Your enemy’s enemy is your friend

Somebody like me who knows it firsthand and could relate… I had a best friend killed, plenty other friends killed. I been through it. I seen it.

Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.

It’s always hard to wrap up a series. The longer I spend with the characters, the more they become like friends.

It was a weird mix of emotions. One day, your best friend could be killed. The day before, you could be celebrating him getting a brand-new bike.