To be in prison so long, it's difficult to remember exactly what you did to get there.
The only effect of public punishment is to show the rabble how bravely it can be borne; and that every one who hath lost a toe-nail hath suffered worse.
I was in prison, and you came unto me. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
~(Jesus Christ) Matthew 25:36, 40
A man will be imprisoned in a room with a door that's unlocked and opens inwards, as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push.
The difference between tax avoidance and tax evasion is the thickness of a prison walls.
Prison makes you a better judge of character. You pick up on people much faster.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
Three hundred years ago a prisoner condemned to the Tower of London carved on the wall of his cell this sentiment to keep up his spirits during his long imprisonment: “It is not adversity that kills, but the impatience with which we bear adversity.”
I can tell you this on a stack of Bibles: prisons are archaic, brutal, unregenerative, overcrowded hell holes where the inmates are treated like animals with absolutely not one humane thought given to what they are going to do once they are released. You're an animal in a cage and you're treated like one.
Taught from infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.
There is no peace because the making of peace is at least as costly as the making of war - at least as exigent, at least as disruptive, at least as liable to bring disgrace and prison and death in its wake.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
Crime is a logical extension of the sort of behavior that often [is] considered perfectly respectable in legitimate business.
No written law has been more binding than unwritten custom supported by popular opinion.
I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.