Once we are destined to live out our lives in the prison of our mind, our duty is to furnish it well.
To make punishments efficacious, two things are necessary. They must never be disproportioned to the offence, and they must be certain.
No matter how you seem to fatten on a crime, that can never be good for the bee which is bad for the hive.
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.
The object of punishment is prevention from evil; it never can be made impulsive to good.
It is more dangerous that even a guilty person should be punished without the forms of law than that he should escape.
There are dreadful punishments enacted against thieves; but it were much better to make such good provisions, by which every man might be put in a method how to live, and so to be preserved from the fatal necessity of stealing and dying for it.
Everyone is a prisoner of his own experiences. No one can eliminate prejudices - just recognize them.
It is safer that a bad man should not be accused, than that he should be acquitted.
It is certain that the study of human psychology, if it were undertaken exclusively in prisons, would also lead to misrepresentation and absurd generalizations.
Why would anyone expect him to come out smarter? He went to prison for three years, not Princeton.
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.
It is not at the table, but in prison, that you learn who your true friends are.
Three hundred years ago a prisoner condemned to the Tower of London carved on the wall of his cell this sentiment to keep up his spirits during his long imprisonment: “It is not adversity that kills, but the impatience with which we bear adversity.”
Forgiveness, that noblest of all self-denial, is a virtue which he alone who can practise in himself can willingly believe in another.
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?
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.
One man meets an infamous punishment for that crime which confers a diadem upon another.