I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.
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.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
It is better that ten guilty persons escape, than that one innocent suffer.
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.
We don't seem to be able to check crime, so why not legalize it and then tax it out of business.
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.
The worst prison is not of stone. It is of a throbbing heart, outraged by an infamous life.
It is safer that a bad man should not be accused, than that he should be acquitted.
He was a first-time nonviolent possible offender, ... And under the mandatory minimums, he was put in prison for 15 years. Not only does the punishment not fit the crime, but the mandatory minimums don't give judges any discretion to look at the background of the case, to read into the specifics of the case. I don't know a judge who really is in favor of the mandatory minimums.
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.
Nor cell, nor chain, nor dungeon speaks to the murderer like the voice of solitude.
Once we are destined to live out our lives in the prison of our mind, our duty is to furnish it well.
Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.
No written law has been more binding than unwritten custom supported by popular opinion.