If you want total security, go to prison. There you’re fed, clothed, given medical care and so on. The only thing lacking…is freedom.
The worst prison is not of stone. It is of a throbbing heart, outraged by an infamous life.
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.
There is no greater punishment of wickedness that that it is dissatisfied with itself and its deeds.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
It is impossible to go through life without trust: That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.
Fast closed with double grills And triple gates–the cell To wicked souls is hell; But to a mind that's innocent 'Tis only iron, wood and stone.
If punishment reaches not the mind and makes not the will supple, it hardens the offender.
What restrains us from killing is partly fear of punishment, partly moral scruple, and partly what may be described as a sense of humor.
Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing.
Experts and the educated elite have replaced what worked with what sounded good. Society was far more civilized before they took over our schools, prisons, welfare programs, police departments and courts. It's high time we ran these people out of our lives and went back to common sense.
To try to raise a son from inside the prison walls is a very difficult thing. But I want to say to the world my son at 16 was the one who tried the most to get me out of prison.
The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack.
Wicked deeds are generally done, even with impunity, for the mere desire of occupation.
Corporal punishment falls far more heavily than most weighty pecuniary penalty.
Mere factual innocence is no reason not to carry out a death sentence properly reached.
I have paid no poll-tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for one night; and, as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, I could not help being struck with the foolishness of that institution which treated me as if I were mere flesh and blood and bones, to be locked up...I saw that, if there was a wall of stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb or break through, before they could get to be as free as I was.