We do everything by custom, even believe by it; our very axioms, let us boast of free-thinking as we may, are oftenest simply such beliefs as we have never heard questioned.
Custom will reconcile people to any atrocity.
Innumerable are the illusions and legerdemain tricks of Custom: but of all these perhaps the cleverest is her knack of persuading us that the Miraculous, by simple repetition, ceases to be Miraculous.
How many things, both just and unjust, are sanctioned by custom!
Tradition may be defined as an extension of the franchise. Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead.
Custom is petrification; nothing but dynamite can dislodge it for a century.
Oh, the times! Oh, the customs!
We are strange beings, we seem to go free, but we go in chains – chains of training, custom, convention, association, environment – in a word, Circumstance – and against these bonds the strongest of us struggle in vain.
The old ways are the safest and surest ways.
Have a place for everything and keep the thing somewhere else. This is not advice, it is merely custom.