Champions aren’t made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them — a desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have last-minute stamina, they have to be a little faster, they have to have the skill and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill. Many fighters have lost to less skillful opponents who had the will to win, who were determined to keep going.

Losers Focus On What They Are Going Through; Champions Focus On What They Are Going To

A champion is someone who gets up when he can't.

Champions aren’t made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them – a desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have last-minute stamina, they have to be a little faster, they have to have the skill and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill.

There's a difference in thinking you are a champion and knowing that you are.

It takes a lot to become a champion. You need to be a killer. If you can't look over that net and see Public Enemy Number One, then you aren't going to be a champ."

If you're a singer you lose your voice. A baseball player loses his arm. A writer gets more knowledge, and if he's good, the older he gets, the better he writes.

Champions aren't made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them-a desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have the skill, and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill.

At the highest levels of any kind of competitive discipline, everyone is great. At this point the decisive factor is rarely who knows more, but who dictates the tone of the battle. For this reason, almost without exception, champions are specialists whose styles emerge from profound awareness of their unique strengths, and who are exceedingly skilled at guiding the battle in that direction.

He threw his sword away. Screw swords. A magician doesn’t need a sword. A magician doesn’t need anything but what’s inside him.

Champions are made from something they have deep inside of them-a desire, a dream, a vison.

The tennis challenger starts strong but soon loses confidence in his playing. The champion racks up the games. But in the final set, when the challenger has nothing left to lose, he becomes relaxed again, insouciant, daring. Suddenly he's playing like the devil and the champion must work hard to get those last points.

The loser has more in common with the winner than with the person sitting on the sidelines.

The winner and the loser each had the courage to try. Both risked embarrassment. Both were willing to face uncertainty. Both were stubborn enough to continue.

Success is endurance in disguise. It belongs to the person who can absorb the losses without absorbing the identity of "loser." It's the courage to start — and to stick with it — that is the real separator. Results tend to find the person who stays in the game.

The sidelines are safe, but sterile. Nothing grows there.

Nowadays, when a pitcher gets a ball close to the hitter, the hitter comes back to the bench and says: "You know, I think he's throwing at me." That shows you how times have changed. When I broke in, you knew damned well they were throwing at you.