In prisons, those things withheld from and denied to the prisoner become precisely what he wants most of all.
Kill a man, and you are an assassin. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill everyone, and you are a God.
Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies to an upright and reasoning will, and you have done much to abolish misery from their future lives and crimes to society.
You utter a vow, or forge a signature, and you may find yourself bound for life to a monastery, a woman, or prison.
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.
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.
I wrote a million words in the first year, and I could never have done that outside of prison.
In a civilized society, all crimes are likely to be sins, but most sins are not and ought not to be treated as crimes.
Women have worked hard; starved in prison; given of their time and lives that we might sit in the House of Commons and take part in the legislating of this country.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
The only difference between me and my fellow actors is that I've spent more time in jail.
The object of punishment is prevention from evil; it never can be made impulsive to good.
A country is in a bad state, which is governed only by laws; because a thousand things occur for which laws cannot provide, and where authority ought to interpose.
It is impossible to go through life without trust: That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.
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.