The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
No man survives when freedom fails. The best men rot in filthy jails, and those who cry 'appease, appease' are hanged by those they tried to please.
There are few better measures of the concern a society has for its individual members and its own well being than the way it handles criminals.
I can tell you this on a stack of Bibles: prisons are archaic, brutal, unregenerative, overcrowded hell holes where the inmates are treated like animals with absolutely not one humane thought given to what they are going to do once they are released. You're an animal in a cage and you're treated like one.
I have been studying how I may compare this prison where I live unto the world; Shut up in the prison of their own consciences.
The difference between tax avoidance and tax evasion is the thickness of a prison walls.
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.
Everyone is a prisoner of his own experiences. No one can eliminate prejudices - just recognize them.
I wrote a million words in the first year, and I could never have done that outside of prison.
On a planet that increasingly resembles one huge Maximum Security prison, the only intelligent choice is to plan a jail break.
The mellow sweetness of pumpkin pie off a prison spoon is something you will never forget.
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.
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.
If it's near dinner-time, the foreman takes out his watch when the jury has retired, and says: "Dear me, gentlemen, ten minutes to five, I declare! I dine at five, gentlemen." "So do I," says everybody else, except two men who ought to have dined at three and seem more than half disposed to stand out in consequence. The foreman smiles, and puts up his watch:--"Well, gentlemen, what do we say, plaintiff or defendant, gentlemen?
The worst prison is not of stone. It is of a throbbing heart, outraged by an infamous life.
There is no greater punishment of wickedness that that it is dissatisfied with itself and its deeds.
The torment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and 'mangled mind' leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.