The thoughts of a prisoner - they're not free either. They keep returning to the same things.
If it's near dinner-time, the foreman takes out his watch when the jury has retired, and says: "Dear me, gentlemen, ten minutes to five, I declare! I dine at five, gentlemen." "So do I," says everybody else, except two men who ought to have dined at three and seem more than half disposed to stand out in consequence. The foreman smiles, and puts up his watch:--"Well, gentlemen, what do we say, plaintiff or defendant, gentlemen?
In prisons, those things withheld from and denied to the prisoner become precisely what he wants most of all.
What restrains us from killing is partly fear of punishment, partly moral scruple, and partly what may be described as a sense of humor.
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 world itself is but a large prison, out of which some are daily led to execution.
Justice is that virtue of the soul which is distributive according to desert.
Crime is a logical extension of the sort of behavior that often [is] considered perfectly respectable in legitimate business.
Organized crime in America takes in over forty billion dollars a year. This is quite a profitable sum, especially when one considers that the Mafia spends very little for office supplies.
Crimes lead one into another; they who are capable of being forgers are capable of being incendiaries.
I don't like being famous - it is like a prison. And driving for Ferrari would make it far worse.
Prison, dungeons, blessed places where evil is impossible because they are the crossroads of all the evil in the world. One cannot commit evil in hell.
I am an expert of electricity. My father occupied the chair of applied electricity at the state prison.
The torment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and 'mangled mind' leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
We have our own system, ... and journalists in our system are not put in prison for embarrassing the government by revealing things the government might not wish to have revealed. The important thing is that our system, under which journalists can write without fear or favor, should continue.
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.