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 punishment reaches not the mind and makes not the will supple, it hardens the offender.
Corporal punishment falls far more heavily than most weighty pecuniary penalty.
When I was in prison, I was wrapped up in all those deep books. That Tolstoy crap - people shouldn't read that stuff.
In jail a man has no personality. He is a minor disposal problem and a few entries on reports. Nobody cares who loves or hates him, what he looks like, what he did with his life. Nobody reacts to him unless he gives trouble. Nobody abuses him. All that is asked of him is that he go quietly to the right cell and remain quiet when he gets there. There is nothing to fight against, nothing to be mad at. The jailers are quiet men without animosity or sadism.
The uneven impact of actual enforcement measures tends to mirror and reinforce more general patterns of discrimination (along socioeconomic, racial and ethnic, sexual, and perhaps generational lines) within the society. As a consequence, such enforcement (ineffective as it may be in producing conformity) almost certainly reinforces feelings of alienation already prevalent within major segments of the population.
Faults of the head are punished in this world, those of the heart in another; but as most of our vices are compound, so also is their punishment.
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.
Mere factual innocence is no reason not to carry out a death sentence properly reached.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
Once we are destined to live out our lives in the prison of our mind, our duty is to furnish it well.
The torment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and 'mangled mind' leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
It is not at the table, but in prison, that you learn who your true friends are.
We don't seem to be able to check crime, so why not legalize it and then tax it out of business.
You utter a vow, or forge a signature, and you may find yourself bound for life to a monastery, a woman, or prison.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
Women now have choices. They can be married, not married, have a job, not have a job, be married with children, unmarried with children. Men have the same choice we've always had: work, or prison.
There are only two places in the world where time takes precedence over the job to be done. School and prison.