Ufc Quotes

And second, I don't think there's much of a market for your particular brand of psychology." "So not true." "Butch, you and I just beat the crap out of each other." "You started it. And actually, it would be perfect for Spike TV. UFC meets Oprah. God, I'm brilliant." "Keep telling yourself that. -Butch and V

He looks like a goddamn UFC fighter. His skin is pale, ivory marked with splashes of black—tattoos.

We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.

Hey,maybe I could have a talk show, since you aren't going to be my June Cleaver anymore. I could call it the O'Neal Hour. Sounds important, doesn't it?" [Butch to Vishous] "First of all, you were going to be June Cleaver-" "Screw that. No way I'd bottom for you." "Whatever. And second, I don't think there's much of a market for your particular brand of psychology." "So not true." "Butch, you and I just beat the crap out of each other." "You started it. And actually, it would be perfect for Spike TV. UFC meets Oprah. God, I'm brilliant." "Keep telling yourself that.

I like ’em feisty. Especially with that twangy accent you got going on. I’d give my last UFC check to see you in a pair of Daisy Duke shorts. With those long legs, I bet they’d look amazing.

Anyone who likes or hates Dana White should take a look at this.

Life is more than who’s fighting whom on UFC, what so-and-so tweeted, which celebrities just broke up, and what the latest and greatest food truck is serving up. You were meant to live on a higher level.

When you have butterflies and you’re feeling anxious and you have anxiety or are nervous, that’s when you’re most powerful... A lot of people, instead of honing this power and using it, they allow it to just consume them. There’s another quote that says, ‘A big challenge, a big pressure is like a fire, it’s like a raging fire. Either you can allow this fire to consume you and just take you over completely, or you can gain control of this fire and harness it and you blow it right at your opponent, Dragonball Z style.’ That’s what I’m trying to do, trying to get my emotions under control and use this adrenaline to my advantage.

Where the hell is your guard?" She shouts. Damn if she doesn't sound like Haley. "I'm tired." "Do I look like I care? You're getting the hell pounded out of you. If you want to tap out, then tap out, but don't stand there and let him win.

~Have NO fear of moving into the unknown. Simply step out fearlessly knowing that I am with YOU, therefore NO harm can befall YOU; all is very, very well. Do this in complete faith and confidence~

As Aristotle wrote a long, long time ago, and I'm paraphrasing here, the goal is to avoid mediocrity by being prepared to try something and either failing miserably or triumphing grandly. Mediocrity is not about failing, and it's the opposite of doing. Mediocrity, in other words, is about not trying. The reason is achingly simple, and I know you've heard it a thousand times before: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

An airplane needs air resistance to gain lift. A sword needs to be beaten and shaped to be made sharp and hard. I needed to be held back in order to move forward. And, since then, I’ve never stopped moving forward.

Get over yourself,” Tino barked. “In case you missed the memo, you’re famous now, dickhead. People cross the street to get your autograph. You got two UFC Light-Heavyweight belts. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, you switched weight classes and just killed it like a boss and won a Heavyweight belt too. Me, I look like some asshole from Jersey Shore.” He winced and then added, “Except I have better hair…and better style.” Tino shook his head. “Just completely forget I ever compared myself to them

If you take four street corners, and on one they are playing baseball, on another they are playing basketball and on the other, street hockey. On the fourth corner, a fight breaks out. Where does the crowd go? They all go to the fight. Dana White UFC president April 2007, Las Vegas Sun News Interview

The purpose is to become the best writer in my category (yes, page for page and pound for pound).

~In motivating people, YOU've got to engage their minds and their hearts. I motivate people, I hope, by example - and perhaps by excitement, by having productive ideas to make others feel involved~

For the first time, I had to fight for my life. It's a fight most people will never understand. We all think we will rise to the challenge when the moment comes, but most of us go our whole lives without that belief being tested. I tested it today. I learned to fight through fear, to stay calm in a sea of chaos, and that I will not quit, even when the odds are against me. For all my cuts and bruises and breaks, I am happy it happened. I am different because it happened.

I don't really care. The whole division can hate me. The whole roster can hate me. The whole of America can hate me. I only need one American to love me. And that's Mr. Benjamin Franklin. As long as he loves me, I am good.

Meet Joseph Solinger, a dedicated project manager residing in Myrtle Beach, SC. With aspirations of becoming a small business owner, Joseph is driven by his entrepreneurial spirit. He has a diverse range of interests, including football, baseball, UFC, and supporting his children's sports activities.

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I put out my hand. “Harlan Green.” He waved the cowboy toward me without shaking. “He’s going to check you. You know what to do?” “I know.” I stood with my feet apart and arms out. The wand looked like the wands used by TSA screeners, but this one did not screen for metal. He passed it over my chest, back, arms, and legs, searching for the RF and IR signals emitted by transmitters, recorders, and listening devices. I must have passed, because the cowboy nodded at Ramos. “Okay, now this one.” When the cowboy went to Park, Park slapped the wand away with a quick roll of his left hand, and punched him once in the solar plexus and twice in the face with his right fist. The cowboy staggered back and dropped to his knees. By the time he was down, Park was calmly staring at Ramos. “If you want search me, search me yourself.” The UFC fighter was two seconds behind the curve, then clawed under his shirt and flashed a garish little Llama .380. Neither Park nor I moved to stop him, but by the time the gun was out, Ramos saw Park’s men coming from behind the trucks. A dozen Double Dragon hitters in dark glasses and great suits. I said, “These guys know how to dress, don’t they?” Ramos glanced at me, then told the UFC fighter to put away his gun and get the cowboy on his feet. He didn’t look scared. “I

His voice had a rough note to it as he said, “Tienes una chocha tan linda.” “What?” she mumbled behind her gag. “I said you have a beautiful pussy. And it is. Do you want me to suck on that pretty pussy?” She nodded vigorously and drew in a deep breath of anticipation as he rolled her over to her front. “If I untie your hands, do you promise to behave?” Giving him a pleading look she nodded again. “If you’re a bad girl I’ll just tie you up again and continue teasing you.” She tried to keep from glaring at him, but he must have noticed because he chuckled as he unbound her hands. <...>She smiled at him, feeling too good to fight. “I do.” He laughed and cuddled her close, his dick jumping inside of her when she involuntarily squeezed him. “Good God, woman, you’re going to kill me.” A giggle escaped her and she wondered at the light, happy sound. “Stop being such a whiner.” ''Mmm, feisty,” he gave her neck a sharp nip. “I like it.” “You won’t like it when I kill you for letting her touch you,” she grumped, but cuddled closer. “Why do you love me?” “Fishing for compliments?” she teased. “No…I just want to know why so I can keep doing whatever it is that makes you love me.” “Oh, baby,” she lifted her head to kiss his chin, the note of vulnerability in his voice touching her deeply. “Just be you. You’re the man I fell in love with. All of you. The UFC fighter, the businessman, the asshole—” “Hey now.” She shook her head against his chest. “Admit it, you can be an asshole.” “I plead the fifth.” “All of you,” she continued. “I love all of you.” He made a pleased sound and began to move inside of her again. The man must be snacking on Viagra because he seemed to have a permanent hard-on. His voice had a teasing tone as he said, “Do you love my dick?” Warm tingles raced through her and she licked at the slightly salty skin of his chest. “It’s one of my favorite parts.” “Hmmm, what are your other favorite parts?” Once again she wondered if he was fishing for compliments, but it occurred to her that he’d dated woman who always wanted something from him, not Dallas himself. “I love your lips because they kiss me, your hands because they touch me, but most of all I love your mind and your heart because they define who you are, a strong, smart, and compassionate man. My man.” His grunt made her smile as she continued to kiss her way across his chest as he moved slowly inside of her, a constant stroke that made her want to moan with pleasure. “My Amanda.” Kissing her way up to his lips, she whispered against his mouth, “Love you.” “Love you too, mi querida.

But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky, like no eyes I've ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.

ufc 토토사이트｜코드BB77 마추자도메인.COM｜30+10

There was a fight at Anarchy every weekend, but I knew Alexi was talking about our main event of the season. There was a lineup of several hyped-up pairings, and Alexi was fighting Archer. He didn't stand a chance, but it'd be a good show. They both fought professionally within the UFC, so it'd draw a hell of a crowd. Great for liquor sales, even better for laundering money on bets.

Today, 98 percent of MMA fans have never stepped into the cage, or even onto the mat, much less felt their noses break or tendons pop. Their relationship with violence is virtual. MMA is just something else to watch on a screen. Perhaps this is why the UFC's Octagon is now the equivalent of the Roman Colosseum. Bloody, violent, and explosive.

To me, vale tudo is different from MMA because there are many more possibilities, both good and bad. Until an opportunity presents itself, one has to fight defensively, as Royce did against Dan Severn in UFC 4. Severn weighed 260 pounds and was on top of my brother for sixteen minutes before Royce caught him in a triangle choke from his back. According to today's rules, Royce could never have own that fight. The ref would have stood them up again after five minutes on the ground. MMA is a game; vale tudo is a war.

In the beginning, the UFC was promoting real vale tudo fights. Once American politicans began to criticize it, the UFC modified their rules to shorten the rounds and create weight divisions, turning a martial arts contest into a sport. Having only five minutes in a round to capitalize on an opportunity fundamentally changes the nature of a fight. Although the rules make the UFC more entertaining for fans, ironically, they also make it more violent and less strategic and technical. The UFC was transforming vale tudo into something more brutal.

Take accountability for it. It’s your fault. Failure is going to happen. When it does, see number 1. If you want to fail less, see numbers 3–7. An ounce of prevention prevents a pound of cure. The best time to start preparing is right now. You cannot mass-produce elite people. They need to be forged from hard experiences. If you want to be one of them, you need to seek these challenges consistently. Take care of yourself physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. For some people that means therapy. For some people that means yoga and a cup of tea or fishing with the family. For me that means embracing a constant struggle. Rejecting comfort makes me… well… comfortable. Surround yourself with good people striving to also improve themselves. Build goals and pursue them to the end of the earth.

Young guys come in the door with a lot of miseducation about what a fight looks like and what's going to be effective, and the ironic thing is that it's from the UFC.

The first Ultimate Fighting Championship took place on November 12, 1993, in the lung-sucking mile-high elevation of Denver, Colorado. Eight competitors representing eight different martial arts—from Karate to Sumo to Western Boxing to, of course, Jiu-Jitsu—were set to fight in a single elimination-style tournament, with the winner receiving $50,000. Like in the challenge matches, rules were kept to a minimum: biting, eye gouging, and groin strikes were illegal (groin strikes wouldn't become legal until UFC 2) and punishable by a $1,500 fine... though these offenses would occur, and go unacknowledged by the ring referee. There were no globes, no weight classes, no rounds, no time limits, and—even for those of us who'd been witness to the challenge matches—no real blueprint for what to expect.

To return and see all the differences was like running into an old boyfriend who’d been voted Best Hair in school, beating out all the guys and the girls, and then finding time had left him not just with a bald spot, but bald altogether.  This type of thing might have been acceptable had the old boyfriend entered the UFC or was blessed with a name like Bruce Willis, but if he was skinny and had a square-shaped head, well, it just wasn’t the same thing.  And that’s what Tehachapi had become to me—different, almost to the point of indistinguishable.

Sometimes the teachers and other kids would pity me and throw me a sandwich half or some fruit. I appreciated the food, but never the pity. I was never, ever in for the pity. I guess I must have felt pride then, too. You can’t have embarrassment without pride.

I’d only seen these famous K-1 fighters on VHS, and had certainly never been in a ring with one. I half-expected them to be superhuman, like Goku in Dragon Ball Z or Ryu in Street Fighter 2, and I hadn’t discounted the possibility that Le Banner might be about to hadouken me from across the ring

I’d already seen all this. As far as I was concerned, I’d won this fight weeks ago.

In the press conference preceding the big event, the Japanese media wanted to know what kind of training I was doing for my defence. ‘I’m mostly concentrating on sleep training,’ I said. There were follow-ups of course. ‘Hunto-san, can you please tell me how you do this sleep training?’ ‘Yeah, basically what you do is you think about training really, really hard, and when you think you can’t think about it anymore, then you go to sleep.’ The newspaper stories the next day talked about hyper-baric chambers and visualisation and the power of extreme concentration. I do love the Japanese.

You know what, nearly getting a submission is like nearly winning the lottery: no one wants to hear about that shit.

The Pride people were dressed for business; Ben and I were dressed for Counter-Strike, which was on the agenda after we finished this meeting

I knew Silva loved an upkick, so I had to be wary of that, but I also really felt like jumping on that prick and wailing on him. I launched myself at him with an improvised attack that I think is unlikely to have been attempted in professional MMA before or since. I jumped up and tried to land my ass on Silva’s head, as though I was at the swimming pool and the Brazilian was the water. Randy Couture, who was doing the English commentary, called it the ‘Atomic Butt Drop’. The crowd loved it, but it had little effect and I landed on my back.

That day John came back from work whistling and seemingly happy. He went into the small room next to the kitchen, lay down a tarp, stacked his shoes on top of each other so they could serve as a pillow, grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed himself in the chest and neck. When that knife broke, he went and got another one. John went under but not all the way, and was revived and taken to hospital.

If there is one message to take away from all this – this book, my story, my life – it would be that there’s incredible power in talking to someone about the hurts happening in your life. Speaking to Julie in those early days changed my life like magic, as it did when I spoke to a counsellor in 2010.

Although the rules make the UFC more entertaining for fans, ironically, they also make it more violent and less strategic and technical.

Instead of his expected day at the beach, I’d now swept Rockhold far out to sea. He was out of his depth, broadcasting panicked distress signals with every short-circuited movement. I went in for the finish like a Great White.

Today's values Deserted men became women... And some women are beaten like beasts in the UFC! Everything here seems a bit too much Nganu... I ride in the river in a canoe! Rousse Bijou Rosen Markov Bulgaria 2025

Днешните ценности Пустите мъже станали жени… А пък някакви жени се млатят като зверове в UFC! Всичко туй ми идва малко в повече Нгану …. Карам си в реката аз кану! Русенско Бижу

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