Jake LaMotta Quotes

Here is your piece of ground, you son of a whore!

My mouth has a tendency to get me into trouble, but because I'm so small and I take on people who are lager than me. If someone punched me, I'd get my drummer beat them up.

It was endlessly entertaining, watching people beat each other up. All the little kids in the neighborhood would come and watch... and then we'd beat them up as well.

I went to a fight the other night, and a hockey game broke out.

Usually in fist fights you get punched in the face.

He could not see a belt without hitting below it.

Boxing is a formal, ritualized creation of crisis.

I've gotten punched in the face before by Cena. His hands are like rocks.

We got an old saying: I would rather you punch my teeth down my throat than throw a popcorn punch!

I know a little bit of fisticuffs.

My job is to hit somebody until the referee pulls me off.

I had my first fight in August of 2009 and haven't looked back since.

I don't want to get punched all my life.

One thing I can't prove, but I firmly believe is that two men were put on this earth - one threw a punch and a third guy came over and watched. And that happened before anybody ever threw or kicked a ball.

You were an ass long before I made one outta ya!

Did ya get in a couple of good swipes?" Emmett asked eagerly. "No! Of course not!" "No, not really? You really didnt attack him?" "Emmett!" I protested. "Aw, what a waste. And here you're probably the one person who could take him- since he can't get into your head to cheat- and you had a perfect excuse too. I've been dying to see how he'd do without that advantage.

I've been in a few fights and I know what it's like to get punched in the face.

We all come from different levels, and I think every human has their own relationship to violence, athletic violence and fighting.

Get your dirty stinking moron knees off my chest.

Girl, don't make me put my foot in your ass.

I pissed on the man who called me a dog. Why was he so surprised?

You are a sick freak who should be beaten.

I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.” “Where?” “In his . . .In his inguine.” “Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy. What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator. “He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.” “A tart?” “Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.” “No. It is not.

Unlike any other sport, the objective in boxing is chillingly simple: One man purposefully endeavors to inflict bodily harm on another man.

If only all our conflicts could be resolved with a few grunts and a smack in the ass.