Prison continues, on those who are entrusted to it, a work begun elsewhere, which the whole of society pursues on each individual through innumerable mechanisms of discipline.
When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
Justice is that virtue of the soul which is distributive according to desert.
One man meets an infamous punishment for that crime which confers a diadem upon another.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
The public have more interest in the punishment of an injury than he who receives it.
You utter a vow, or forge a signature, and you may find yourself bound for life to a monastery, a woman, or prison.
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.
Any punishment that does not correct, that can merely rouse rebellion in whoever has to endure it, is a piece of gratuitous infamy which makes those who impose it more guilty in the eyes of humanity, good sense and reason, nay a hundred times more guilty than the victim on whom the punishment is inflicted.
The mellow sweetness of pumpkin pie off a prison spoon is something you will never forget.
Concepts of justice must have hands and feet to carry out justice in every case in the shortest possible time and the lowest possible cost. That is the challenge to every lawyer and judge in America.
We're in a war. People who blast some pot on a casual basis are guilty of treason.
The English laws punish vice; the Chinese laws do more, they reward virtue.
They took away my money, my family, and my security. Why couldn't they destroy my ideas? We will question them in court tomorrow as we trigger The Revolution of all revolutions!
No written law has been more binding than unwritten custom supported by popular opinion.
Adversities such as being homeless and going to prison has made many people stronger.
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.