If punishment reaches not the mind and makes not the will supple, it hardens the offender.
The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack.
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.
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.
Justice is justice though it's always delayed and finally done only by mistake.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
I was in prison, and you came unto me. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
~(Jesus Christ) Matthew 25:36, 40
I sometimes wish that people would put a little more emphasis upon the observance of the law than they do upon its enforcement.
Probably the only place where a man can feel really secure is in a maximum security prison, except for the imminent threat of release.
It is better that ten guilty persons escape, than that one innocent suffer.
I am certain that nothing has done so much to destroy the juridical safeguards of individual freedom as the striving after this mirage of social justice.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
I was put into jail as I was going to the shoemaker's to get a shoe which was mended. When I was let out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and, having put on my mended shoe, joined a huckleberry party, who were impatient to put themselves under my conduct; and in half an hour -- for the horse was soon tackled -- was in the midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two miles off, and then the State was nowhere to be seen.
When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
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 is no greater punishment of wickedness that that it is dissatisfied with itself and its deeds.