The thoughts of a prisoner - they're not free either. They keep returning to the same things.
To seek the redress of grievances by going to law, is like sheep running for shelter to a bramble bush.
The only real prison is fear, and the only real freedom is freedom from fear.
He had drawn many a thousand of these rations in prisons and camps, and though he'd never had an opportunity to weight them on scales, and although, being a man of timid nature, he knew no way of standing up for his rights, he, like every other prisoner, had discovered long ago that honest weight was never to be found in the bread-cutting. There was short weight in every ration. The only point was how short. So every day you took a look to soothe your soul - today, maybe, they haven't snitched any.
It was only when I lay there on the rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not between states nor between social classes nor between political parties, but right through every human heart, through all human hearts. And that is why I turn back to the years of my imprisonment and say, sometimes to the astonishment of those about me, bless you, prison, for having been a part of my life.
It isn't true that convicts live like animals: animals have more room to move around.
It is safer that a bad man should not be accused, than that he should be acquitted.
There are only two places in the world where time takes precedence over the job to be done. School and prison.
A Sunday school is a prison in which children do penance for the evil conscience of their parents.
I wrote a million words in the first year, and I could never have done that outside of prison.
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.