Fast closed with double grills And triple gates–the cell To wicked souls is hell; But to a mind that's innocent 'Tis only iron, wood and stone.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
History is full of people who went to prison or were burned at the stake for proclaiming their ideas. Society has always defended itself.
Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.
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.
On a planet that increasingly resembles one huge Maximum Security prison, the only intelligent choice is to plan a jail break.
They were being driven to a prison, through no fault of their own, in all probability for life. In comparison, how much easier it would be to walk to the gallows than to this tomb of living horrors!
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.
Why would anyone expect him to come out smarter? He went to prison for three years, not Princeton.
The number of laws is constantly growing in all countries and, owing to this, what is called crime is very often not a crime at all, for it contains no element of violence or harm.
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 isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
No obligation to justice does force a man to be cruel, or to use the sharpest sentence.
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 thoughts of a prisoner - they're not free either. They keep returning to the same things.
I know not whether laws be right, or whether laws be wrong; All that we know who lie in gaol is that the wall is strong; And that each day is like a year, a year whose days are long.
We who live in prison, and in whose lives there is no event but sorrow, have to measure time by throbs of pain, and the record of bitter moments.