This world is nothing. An illusion. Death is the release.

I feel that if I ever did adjust to prison, I could by that alone never adjust to society.

Most important, you learn never to trust a man, even if he seems honest and sincere. You learn how men deceive themselves and how impossible it is to help them without injuring yourself.

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

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

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

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.