The first night's the toughest. No doubt about it. They march you in, naked as the day you were born, skin burning and half-blind from that delousing shit they throw on you. And when they put you in that cell, and those bars slam home... that's when you know it's for real. Old life blown away in the blink of an eye. Nothing left, but all the time in the world to think about it.
— Feel bad about it if you want to, but you didn't pull the trigger.
— No, I didn't. Somebody else did. And I wound up in here. Bad luck, I guess. Yeah. It floats around. It's got to land on somebody. It was my turn, that's all. I was in the path of the tornado. I just didn't expect the storm would last as long as it has.
Six wardens have been through here in my tenure, and I've learned one immutable, universal truth: Not one born whose asshole... wouldn't pucker up tighter than a snare drum when you ask for funds.
I wish I could tell you that... but prison is no fairy-tale world.
Heywood: — The Count of Monte Crisco...
Floyd: — That's "Cristo" you dumb shit.
Heywood: — ...by Alexandree D-u-m-a-s... Dumb-ass!
Andy Dufresne: — Dumb-ass? "Dumas".