Once we are destined to live out our lives in the prison of our mind, our duty is to furnish it well.
It is the deed that teaches, not the name we give it. Murder and capital punishment are not opposites that cancel one another, but similars that breed their own kind.
Only free men can negotiate. Prisoners cannot enter into contracts.
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.
A country is in a bad state, which is governed only by laws; because a thousand things occur for which laws cannot provide, and where authority ought to interpose.
What is crime amongst the multitude, is only vice among the few.
It is true you cannot eat freedom and you cannot power machinery with democracy. But then neither can political prisoners turn on the light in the cells of a dictatorship.
There are only two places in the world where time takes precedence over the job to be done. School and prison.
The object of punishment is prevention from evil; it never can be made impulsive to good.
The thoughts of a prisoner - they're not free either. They keep returning to the same things.
Since 1957, black people have experienced double-digit unemployment - in good times and bad times. Look at the population of African Americans in prison. They represent more than half the population of prisoners in the country, 55 percent of those on death row.
The world itself is but a large prison, out of which some are daily led to execution.
I was put into jail as I was going to the shoemaker's to get a shoe which was mended. When I was let out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and, having put on my mended shoe, joined a huckleberry party, who were impatient to put themselves under my conduct; and in half an hour -- for the horse was soon tackled -- was in the midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two miles off, and then the State was nowhere to be seen.
I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.