I don't like being famous - it is like a
I don't like being famous - it is like a prison. And driving for Ferrari would make it far worse.
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I don't like being famous - it is like a prison. And driving for Ferrari would make it far worse.
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.
In the halls of justice, the only justice is in the halls.
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.
A pedestal is as much a prison as any small, confined space.
The punishment can be remitted; the crime is everlasting.
The common argument that crime is caused by poverty is a kind of slander on the poor.
To my mind, to kill in war is not a whit better than to commit ordinary murder.
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.
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.
There is no greater punishment of wickedness that that it is dissatisfied with itself and its deeds.
If two people fight on the street, whose fault is it? Who is the criminal? It is the government’s responsibility because the government has not educated the people to not make mistakes. The people have inadequate, incompetent education, so they make mistakes! It is such a fraud.
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.
The guilt of enforced crimes lies on those who impose them.
It is not at the table, but in prison, that you learn who your true friends are.
One man meets an infamous punishment for that crime which confers a diadem upon another.
Probably the only place where a man can feel really secure is in a maximum security prison, except for the imminent threat of release.
While crime is punished it yet increases.
The best situation of all, and one frequently utilized, is for jails and prisons to allow volunteer ministers of all faiths to enter prisons and offer their services to the inmates who want them. That way, the religious needs of inmates are met but without government funds being spent.
The world itself is but a large prison, out of which some are daily led to execution.
There is a point at which even justice does injury.
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 reformative effect of punishment is a belief that dies hard, chiefly I think, because it is so satisfying to our sadistic impulses.
Why would anyone expect him to come out smarter? He went to prison for three years, not Princeton.
Let us remember that justice must be observed even to the lowest.