The worst prison is not of stone. It is of a throbbing heart, outraged by an infamous life.
Crimes lead one into another; they who are capable of being forgers are capable of being incendiaries.
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
I have been studying how I may compare this prison where I live unto the world; Shut up in the prison of their own consciences.
No man survives when freedom fails. The best men rot in filthy jails, and those who cry 'appease, appease' are hanged by those they tried to please.
The best situation of all, and one frequently utilized, is for jails and prisons to allow volunteer ministers of all faiths to enter prisons and offer their services to the inmates who want them. That way, the religious needs of inmates are met but without government funds being spent.
The thoughts of a prisoner - they're not free either. They keep returning to the same things.
Whatever you think of de Sade, he was a complex figure and we should not look for easy answers with him. He was, strangely perhaps, against the death penalty, and he was never put in prison for murders or anything like that.
I wrote a million words in the first year, and I could never have done that outside of prison.
I don't like being famous - it is like a prison. And driving for Ferrari would make it far worse.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
I just remember that disturbing feeling of walking into that prison, the complete loss of privacy, the complete loss of stimulation, dignity.
Civilization is maintained by a very few people in a small number of places and we need only some bombs and a few prisons to blot it out altogether.
We shall not yield to violence. We shall not be deprived of union freedoms. We shall never agree with sending people to prison for their convictions.
There are few better measures of the concern a society has for its individual members and its own well being than the way it handles criminals.
We who live in prison, and in whose lives there is no event but sorrow, have to measure time by throbs of pain, and the record of bitter moments.
Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing.