Nothing is over and done with. Nothing. Not even your malice.

I have been desperate to escape for so many years now, it is routine for me to try to escape.

I find it painful and angering to look in a mirror.

I escaped one time. In 1971 I was in the free world for six weeks.

When I'm forced by circumstances to be in a crowd of prisoners, it's all I can do to refrain from attack.

The other inmates stand in a long straight line, flanked by guards, and I am dragged past them. I do not respect them, because they will not run - will not try to escape.

Paranoia is an illness I contracted in institutions. It is not the reason for my sentences to reform school and prison. It is the effect, not the cause.

Imagine a thousand more such daily intrusions in your life, every hour and minute of every day, and you can grasp the source of this paranoia, this anger that could consume me at any moment if I lost control.

To be in prison so long, it's difficult to remember exactly what you did to get there.

There was never sufficient evidence presented at my trial to support a finding of intent to kill.

Because there is something helpless and weak and innocent - something like an infant - deep inside us all that really suffers in ways we would never permit an insect to suffer.

Nothing is over and done with. Nothing. Not even your malice.

The part of me which wanders through my mind and never sees or feels actual objects, but which lives in and moves through my passions and my emotions, experiences this world as a horrible nightmare.

One morning I woke up and was plunged into psychological shock. I had forgotten I was free.

I've wanted somehow to convey to you the sensations - the atmospheric pressure, you might say - of what it is to be seriously a long-term prisoner in an American prison.

My eyes, my brain seek out escape routes wherever I am sent.

As long as I am nothing but a ghost of the civil dead, I can do nothing.

That is how prison is tearing me up inside. It hurts every day. Every day takes me further from my life.

When they talk of ghosts of the dead who wander in the night with things still undone in life, they approximate my subjective experience of this life.

I have the same malice in my heart as far as the fight game is concerned, but outside the ring, I won't say anything a dignified man won't say.

A slight touch of friendly malice and amusement towards those we love keeps our affections for them from turning flat.

The quietness of his tone italicized the malice of his reply.

Never ascribe to malice that which is adequately explained by incompetence.

There is probably an element of malice in our readiness to overestimate people - we are, as it were, laying up for ourselves the pleasure of later cutting them down to size.

Forcible ways make not an end of evil, but leave hatred and malice behind them.

The minds of men are at last aroused; reason looks out and justifies her own, and malice finds all her work is ruin.

A noble heart cannot suspect in others the pettiness and malice that it has never felt.

The rising sun can dispel the darkness of night, but it cannot banish the blackness of malice, hatred, bigotry, and selfishness from the hearts of humanity.

I'm not full of malice, but I do dislike Neil Diamond a lot, and I'm sorry that I've done a Neil Diamond song.

In this manner, I continued with Satan for ten days. His answer and blasphemy were too shocking to pen; till I was worn out with rage and malice against him, I could not bear myself.

Malice is always authentic and sincere.

There is a rollicking kindness that looks like malice.

As for ourselves, yes, we must be meek, bear injustice, malice, rash judgment. We must turn the other cheek, give up our cloak, go a second mile.

He, who cannot forgive a trespass of malice to his enemy, has never yet tasted the most sublime enjoyment of love.

Malice scorned, puts out itself; but argued, give a kind of credit to a false accusation.

Malice is only another name for mediocrity.

Anger may repast with thee for an hour, but not repose for a night; the continuance of anger is hatred, the continuance of hatred turns malice.

If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang.

Malice is of a low stature, but it hath very long arms.

Nothing is over and done with. Nothing. Not even your malice.

Never attribute to malice, that which can be reasonably explained by stupidity.

The best way to win against the intolerable is to tolerate them, for this they have seldom dealt with. Your indulgence may soften their malice and open their eyes to more honorable ways.

The truth is incontrovertible, malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end; there it is.

It is remarkable by how much a pinch of malice enhances the penetrating power of an idea or an opinion. Our ears, it seems, are wonderfully attuned to sneers and evil reports about our fellow men.

Our enemies are our evil deeds and their memories, our pride, our selfishness, our malice, our passions, which by conscience or by habit pursue us with a relentlessness past the power of figure to express.

I can't judge any of you. I have no malice against you and no ribbons for you. But I think that it is high time that you all start looking at yourselves, and judging the lie that you live in.

Insolence is not logic; epithets are the arguments of malice.

Malice can always find a mark to shoot at, and a pretence to fire.

I have been the victim of heartless malice.