“I have just lost my reason for fighting so hard. How do I go on now, without my thing to fight for?' And he whispered into my ear, he said: 'Maybe it's time to stop fighting.”

“I’ve stopped protecting my heart from you,” he said. “I’ve stopped fighting the way I feel, stopped fighting the natural draw I feel toward you. Now you need to do the same.”

“Fighting is in my very bones. I don't have any fancy, noble reason like anger at my fate. I'm just like a gamecock that launches itself into battle after meaningless battle. I like fighting. That's why I can't stop.”

“He’s fighting the world.” And now, I watch as the underdog in the middle of the circle fights on and stands and falls and returns to his haunches and feet and fights on again. He fights on, no matter how hard he hits the ground. He gets up. Some people cheer him. Others laugh now and rubbish him.Feeling comes out of me.I watch.My eyes swell, and burn.“Can he win?”I ask it, and now, I too cannot take my eyes off the boy in the circle.”

“Most people fight with their fists. But I fight with my legs. I fight to stay, but they fight to run. Luckily for them, I don't fight very hard.”

“its not in my nature to go down without a fight even when things seem insurmountable”