There is no greater punishment of wickedness that that it is dissatisfied with itself and its deeds.
Organized crime in America takes in over forty billion dollars a year. This is quite a profitable sum, especially when one considers that the Mafia spends very little for office supplies.
You utter a vow, or forge a signature, and you may find yourself bound for life to a monastery, a woman, or prison.
Nothing can be more abhorrent to democracy than to imprison a person or keep him in prison because he is unpopular. This is really the test of civilization.
I know not whether laws be right, or whether laws be wrong; All that we know who lie in gaol is that the wall is strong; And that each day is like a year, a year whose days are long.
A just chastisement may benefit a man, though it seldom does; but an unjust one changes all his blood to gall.
I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.
Women now have choices. They can be married, not married, have a job, not have a job, be married with children, unmarried with children. Men have the same choice we've always had: work, or prison.
When you are younger you get blamed for crimes you never committed and when you're older you begin to get credit for virtues you never possessed. It evens itself out.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
No matter how you seem to fatten on a crime, that can never be good for the bee which is bad for the hive.
I sometimes wish that people would put a little more emphasis upon the observance of the law than they do upon its enforcement.
Prison, dungeons, blessed places where evil is impossible because they are the crossroads of all the evil in the world. One cannot commit evil in hell.
Forgiveness, that noblest of all self-denial, is a virtue which he alone who can practise in himself can willingly believe in another.
The object of punishment is prevention from evil; it never can be made impulsive to good.
They were being driven to a prison, through no fault of their own, in all probability for life. In comparison, how much easier it would be to walk to the gallows than to this tomb of living horrors!
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.