Quotes about Prison

Thought and action are the jailers of Fate -- they imprison, being base; they are also the angels of Freedom -- they liberate being noble.

Yahweh doesn't owe us an explanation for what He does. He's sovereign over all: 'Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens—what can you do? They are deeper than the depths of the grave—what can you know?. . . If he comes along and confines you in prison. . . who can oppose him?' So you see? I don't need to know why anymore.

Well yet, this life such as it is, yet we love it, and loath we are to end it; and if it be in hazard by the law, what running, riding, posting, suing, bribing, and if all will not serve, what breaking prison is there for it!

To live continually in thoughts of ill will, cynicism, suspicion, and envy, is to be confined in a self made prison-hole.

If love was a crime, God would encourage us all to go to prison.

As the hart desires the spring of living water, so my soul desires to leave the prison of this dark body and see You in truth.

The most anxious man in a prison is the governor.

I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and He answered me in the freedom of space.

I had intended to write this book anonymously, using my prison number only. But when the manuscript was completed, I saw that as an anonymous publication it would lose half its value

On the steps of a church, awaiting the coming-up of the tumbrils, stands the Spy and prison-sheep. He looks into the first of them: not there. He looks into the second: not there. He already asks himself, "Has he sacrificed me?" when his face clears, as he looks into the third. "Which is Evremonde?" says a man behind

Carton left him there; but lingered after a little distance, and turned back to the gate again when it was shut, and touched it. He had heard of her going to the prison every day. 'She came out here,' he said, looking about him, 'turned this way, must have trod on these stones often. Let me follow in her footsteps.

All hearts have but one request. One simple, unspoken, undeniable need. One undeniable fear. To be known. You can stamp it out. Kill it. Box it up and hem it in. Numb it and close the door. Bury it and nail it shut. Encase it in stone. But eventually, the needs of the heart will tear the door off the hinges, unearth it, and crack the stone. No prison ever built could house it. Those of us who think we can are lying to ourselves. And those next to us. Hope never dies.