Nor cell, nor chain, nor dungeon speaks to the murderer like the voice of solitude.
No written law has been more binding than unwritten custom supported by popular opinion.
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.
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.
You stuff somebody into the American dream, and it becomes a prison.
If you strike at, imprison, or kill us, out of our prisons or graves we will still evoke a spirit that will thwart you, and perhaps, raise a force that will destroy you! We defy you! Do your worst!
When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
Justice renders to every one his due.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
The guilt of enforced crimes lies on those who impose them.
To be in prison so long, it's difficult to remember exactly what you did to get there.
No matter how you seem to fatten on a crime, that can never be good for the bee which is bad for the hive.
It becomes not a law-maker to be a law-breaker.
We're in a war. People who blast some pot on a casual basis are guilty of treason.
When it comes to freedom, we are but prisoners of our own desires.
You utter a vow, or forge a signature, and you may find yourself bound for life to a monastery, a woman, or prison.
He who profits by a crime commits it.
Vices are not crimes.
Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars.
While we have prisons it matters little which of us occupy the cells.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
The contagion of crime is like that of the plague. Criminals collected together corrupt each other; they are worse than ever when at the termination of their punishment they re-enter society.
It was only when I lay there on the rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not between states nor between social classes nor between political parties, but right through every human heart, through all human hearts. And that is why I turn back to the years of my imprisonment and say, sometimes to the astonishment of those about me, bless you, prison, for having been a part of my life.
What is crime amongst the multitude, is only vice among the few.
So justice while she winks at crimes, Stumbles on innocence sometimes.
