Men commonly think according to their inclinations, speak according to their learning and imbibed opinions, but generally act according to custom.
Custom governs the world; it is the tyrant of our feelings and our manners and rules the world with the hand of a despot.
There is no tyrant like custom, and no freedom where its edicts are not resisted.
There are not unfrequently substantial reasons underneath for customs that appear to us absurd.
Custom doth make dotards of us all.
Custom is the law of one description of fools, and fashion of another; but the two parties often clash, for precedent is the legislator of the first, and novelty of the last.
To follow foolish precedents, and wink with both our eyes, is easier than to think.
Man yields to custom, as he bows to fate—in all things ruled, mind, body, and estate.
Custom is often only the antiquity of error.
The custom and fashion of today will be the awkwardness and outrage of tomorrow—so arbitrary are these transient laws.
In this great society wide lying around us, a critical analysis would find very few spontaneous actions. It is almost all custom and gross sense.
Custom may lead a man into many errors, but it justifies none.
Immemorial custom is transcendent law.
The despotism of custom is on the wane.—We are not content to know that things are; we ask whether they ought to be.
The way of the world is to make laws, but follow customs.
Custom is the universal sovereign.
Choose always the way that seems best, however rough it may be, and custom will soon render it easy and agreeable.
The influence of custom is incalculable; dress a boy as a man, and he will at once change his conception of himself.
As the world leads, we follow.
New customs, though they be never so ridiculous, nay, let them be unmanly, yet are followed.
Custom is the law of fools.
Be not so bigoted to any custom as to worship it at the expense of truth.