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He committed mayhem upon his person. He did everything to him that a man can do who is hampered with boxing gloves.

 

P. G. Wodehouse

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I tried the gloves on, and it just felt so natural. From that moment I became so embedded in boxing. I found a friend in boxing.

 

Sugar Ray Leonard

 

"In boxing, the style has changed over the years from crouching to being more and more vertical. Also people used to jump around, but the modern boxer like Tyson just moves in flat footed to demolish his opponent in a scientific way. In Wing Chun a person does not bob as in boxing. When two beginners fight it doesn't matter how they fight, but against professionals it makes a difference. Even a smaller [person] is better off to keep the body vertical and step back, then to bob and weave. This is because the hand can move faster than the body. Boxing is still like a game because there are rules for how you can hit and how you can't hit. If you attack someone and they bend their head, then in Wing Chun you can still hit them with your hand even without pulling your hand back."

 

Wong Shun Leung

 

I can entertain the proposition that life is a metaphor for boxing — for one of those bouts that go on and on, round following round, jabs, missed punches, clinches, nothing determined, again the bell and again and you and your opponent so evenly matched it’s impossible not to see that your opponent is you... Life is like boxing in many unsettling respects. But boxing is only like boxing.

 

Joyce Carol Oates

 

When I was young, I was very energetic and strong – just too hyperactive. So when I went to the boxing club, everything seemed normal to me. I enjoyed it, I liked punching things, hitting the boxing bag, fighting people in the boxing ring and in school I was naughty as well; but when I started boxing, I totally changed everything – you know, my whole life changed, I was good, I didn’t misbehave, I was always behaving in school. The teacher was happy with my behaviour.

 

Amir (boxer) Khan

 

O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering-sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?

 

Frances Cornford