As an innocent but reviled man in prison - a black man convicted of the racist killing of three white people and just narrowly escaping the electric chair - you could have bet your family inheritance that i would never again be free to see the sunrise. And because of my attitude, and because of my absolute, unwavering conviction that I was innocent, and my supposed lack of contrition, my chances of living long enough to get my case back into court were very poor at best. But I could not give in to the threat of violence or isolation. Being found guilty by a jury of twelve misinformed people, a jury fed on lies, perjury, and manufactured evidence, did not make me guilty. So I refused to act the part of a guilty man. I refused to become a good prisoner. Resistance was my defence. I would not speak to the guards nor would I acknowledge their existences. I refused to move to the rhythm of the prison or obey its arbitrary rules. I refused to wear its stripes. I refused to eat its food. I refused to work its jobs. I would have refused to breathe the prison air if I could have done so and yet remained alive.
Rubin "Hurricane" Carter - Eye of the Hurricane: My Path From Darkness to Freedom s. 89,90
“Mine has been a life of much shame. I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.”
― Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human