It is not at the table, but in prison, that you learn who your true friends are.
The perfection of a thing consists in its essence; there are perfect criminals, as there are men of perfect probity.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
I asked a man in prison once how he happened to be there and he said he had stolen a pair of shoes. I told him if he had stolen a railroad he would be a United States Senator.
Show me the prison, Show me the jail, Show me the prisoner whose life has gone stale. And I'll show you a young man with so many reasons why And there, but for fortune, go you or I.
I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world; And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.
When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrist? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.
I never told a victim story about my imprisonment. Instead, I told a transformation story - about how prison changed my outlook, about how I saw that communication, truth, and trust are at the heart of power.
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.
To seek the redress of grievances by going to law, is like sheep running for shelter to a bramble bush.
You utter a vow, or forge a signature, and you may find yourself bound for life to a monastery, a woman, or prison.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
There is no greater punishment of wickedness that that it is dissatisfied with itself and its deeds.
Taught from infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.
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.”
I sometimes wish that people would put a little more emphasis upon the observance of the law than they do upon its enforcement.
Society has used the juvenile courts to create a caste system where there are throw-away people.
To my mind, to kill in war is not a whit better than to commit ordinary murder.