In jail a man has no personality. He is a minor disposal problem and a few entries on reports. Nobody cares who loves or hates him, what he looks like, what he did with his life. Nobody reacts to him unless he gives trouble. Nobody abuses him. All that is asked of him is that he go quietly to the right cell and remain quiet when he gets there. There is nothing to fight against, nothing to be mad at. The jailers are quiet men without animosity or sadism.
Written laws are like spiders' webs, and will, like them, only entangle and hold the poor and weak, while the rich and powerful will easily break through them.
The world itself is but a large prison, out of which some are daily led to execution.
We who live in prison, and in whose lives there is no event but sorrow, have to measure time by throbs of pain, and the record of bitter moments.
Prison continues, on those who are entrusted to it, a work begun elsewhere, which the whole of society pursues on each individual through innumerable mechanisms of discipline.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
In a civilized society, all crimes are likely to be sins, but most sins are not and ought not to be treated as crimes.
The perfection of a thing consists in its essence; there are perfect criminals, as there are men of perfect probity.
I sometimes wish that people would put a little more emphasis upon the observance of the law than they do upon its enforcement.
Show me the prison, Show me the jail, Show me the prisoner whose life has gone stale. And I'll show you a young man with so many reasons why And there, but for fortune, go you or I.
Money will determine whether the accused goes to prison or walks out of the courtroom a free man.
A Sunday school is a prison in which children do penance for the evil conscience of their parents.
Crimes lead one into another; they who are capable of being forgers are capable of being incendiaries.
Intellectual despair results in neither weakness nor dreams, but in violence. It is only a matter of knowing how to give vent to one's rage; whether one only wants to wander like madmen around prisons, or whether one wants to overturn them.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
I asked a man in prison once how he happened to be there and he said he had stolen a pair of shoes. I told him if he had stolen a railroad he would be a United States Senator.