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.
Prisons don't rehabilitate, they don't punish, they don't protect, so what the hell do they do?
When is conduct a crime, and when is a crime not a crime? When Somebody Up There -- a monarch, a dictator, a Pope, a legislator -- so decrees.
We who live in prison, and in whose lives there is no event but sorrow, have to measure time by throbs of pain, and the record of bitter moments.
Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing.
In prisons, those things withheld from and denied to the prisoner become precisely what he wants most of all.
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.
On a planet that increasingly resembles one huge Maximum Security prison, the only intelligent choice is to plan a jail break.
Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
The contagion of crime is like that of the plague. Criminals collected together corrupt each other; they are worse than ever when at the termination of their punishment they re-enter society.
America is the land of the second chance – and when the gates of the prison open, the path ahead should lead to a better life.