Quotes About Imprisonment

She had read a wonderful play about a man who scratched on the wall of his cell and she had felt that was true of life — one scratched on the wall.

Nothing moves at the Hotel New Hampshire! We're screwed down here-for life!

My worries always lead to dungeons; I can't imagine a worse thing than to be imprisoned for the rest of one's life, especially with so few years to enjoy what little there is.

Ten guards and the warden couldn't have torn me out of those books. Months passed without even thinking about being imprisoned....I had never been so truly free in my life.

Right before I was escorted to the jail, Fawn waved bye bye to me. I smiled. My empty, pointless life for hers. Not bad.

George Scherter, a minister of Salzburg, was apprehended and committed to prison for instructing his flock in the knowledge of the Gospel.

Rawlins was carried again to Cardiff, to a loathsome prison in the town, called Cockmarel, where he passed his time in prayer, and in the singing of Psalms.

Meanwhile, a plan had slowly been forming in Ariel Castro's head. He had decided to kidnap a young girl and imprison her as his sex slave, to satisfy his lustful cravings. Since Nilda and his children had left, he had become obsessed with sadomasochistic sex and humiliation. His sexual fantasies had become darker and darker and his basement was now full of hard-core S-and-M sex videos.

He's never coming out except nailed in a box or in an ash can," he said. "He is not stepping out.

As I princessed in the tower, he knight-in-shining-armoured up the drive.

Al señor Evans le gustaría que dibujaseis vuestro autorretrato —anunció—. Algo que muestre cómo os veis a vosotros mismos. [...] No había dejado de usar el lápiz negro, y lo que había creado era muy revelador: un par de manos agarradas a unos barrotes que cruzaban de arriba a abajo la hoja. No había cara ni cuerpo. Sólo dedos aferrados a gruesos barrotes negros.

As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.

Silence, always my fortress, sometimes my prison

If you want to destroy something in this life, be it acne, a blemish or the human soul, all you need to do is to surround it with thick walls. It will dry up inside.

Yes, Miss Ashburn, when at night you had retired from me, I beheld only solitude and imprisonment; and I have waited hours in that forlorn gallery, that I might catch the whisper of your breathings, that the consciousness of being near a friend might restore me to hope, to hilarity, to confidence.

I have done most of my talking by post of late years--as people shut up in dungeons take up with scrawling mottoes on the walls.

But the prison doors are shut close, and I could dash myself against them sometimes with a passionate impatience of the need-less captivity. I feel so intimately and from evidence, how, with air and warmth together in any fair proportion, I should be as well and happy as the rest of the world, that it is intolerable —

Miss Mitford talks of coming to town for a day, and of bringing Flush with her, as soon as the weather settles, and to-day looks so like it that I have mused this morning on the possibility of breaking my prison doors and getting into the next room. Only there is a forbidding north wind, they say.

There," Murchaud said, tapping the cool surface the Darkling Glass. "There's is your cellar, Master Poet, and there is your oubliette." "Not mine, surely.

The darkest prisons were those of the mind.

Ferranti's thoughts had been his. As before he had understood his remorse so now he understood the mental chains that had imprisoned him. The poor wretch could not move. Misery had become apathy and apathy had brought the inevitable paralysis of the will.

Put him in there and chain him up," he ordered curtly. "Yes, that chain, you fool - do you see any other chain in that cell? Peaceable Sherwood? I'm tired of hearing about Peaceable Sherwood! Turn him loose in the cell for the night. - Which one of you said 'Where'll he be by morning?' Where does he look like he's going to be by morning, I ask you - a hundred and fifty miles away?" I was, to be exact, only seven and a half miles away by morning...

bodies becoming like prisons with the person stuck inside. Screaming, or not screaming, but staring at you like you should do something.

Debs ran for president, in 1920, it would be from behind bars, as Convict No. 9653 in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.