When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
The most anxious man in a prison is the governor.
Since 1957, black people have experienced double-digit unemployment - in good times and bad times. Look at the population of African Americans in prison. They represent more than half the population of prisoners in the country, 55 percent of those on death row.
The punishment can be remitted; the crime is everlasting.
We are prisoners of ideas.
Every instance of a man's suffering the penalty of the law is an instance of the failure of that penalty in effecting its purpose, which is to deter.
One crime is everything; two nothing.
By noiselessly going to a prison a civil-resister ensures a calm atmosphere.
To make punishments efficacious, two things are necessary. They must never be disproportioned to the offence, and they must be certain.
Adversities such as being homeless and going to prison has made many people stronger.
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.
I have never been contained except I made the prison.
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.
Everyone is a prisoner of his own experiences. No one can eliminate prejudices - just recognize them.
A man will be imprisoned in a room with a door that's unlocked and opens inwards, as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push.
I know how men in exile feed on dreams of hope.
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.”
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.
The perfection of a thing consists in its essence; there are perfect criminals, as there are men of perfect probity.
Distrust all in whom the impulse to punish is powerful.
Body is a home, a prison and a grave.
So justice while she winks at crimes, Stumbles on innocence sometimes.
I am an expert of electricity. My father occupied the chair of applied electricity at the state prison.
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
Laws do not persuade just because they threaten.
