The perfection of a thing consists in its essence; there are perfect criminals, as there are men of perfect probity.
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.
The English laws punish vice; the Chinese laws do more, they reward virtue.
He had drawn many a thousand of these rations in prisons and camps, and though he'd never had an opportunity to weight them on scales, and although, being a man of timid nature, he knew no way of standing up for his rights, he, like every other prisoner, had discovered long ago that honest weight was never to be found in the bread-cutting. There was short weight in every ration. The only point was how short. So every day you took a look to soothe your soul - today, maybe, they haven't snitched any.
Prosecution I have managed to avoid; but I have been arrested, charged in a police court, have refused to be bound over, and thereupon have been unconditionally released - to my great regret; for I have always wanted to know what going to prison was like.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
I am an expert of electricity. My father occupied the chair of applied electricity at the state prison.
Faults of the head are punished in this world, those of the heart in another; but as most of our vices are compound, so also is their punishment.
Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
The only difference between me and my fellow actors is that I've spent more time in jail.
There are only two places in the world where time takes precedence over the job to be done. School and prison.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
Trial by jury itself, instead of being a security to persons who are accused, shall be a delusion, a mockery, and a snare.
There is no peace because the making of peace is at least as costly as the making of war - at least as exigent, at least as disruptive, at least as liable to bring disgrace and prison and death in its wake.
I just remember that disturbing feeling of walking into that prison, the complete loss of privacy, the complete loss of stimulation, dignity.
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.
Written laws are like spiders' webs, and will, like them, only entangle and hold the poor and weak, while the rich and powerful will easily break through them.
The thoughts of a prisoner - they're not free either. They keep returning to the same things.
Justice is that virtue of the soul which is distributive according to desert.