Custom is a tyrant.

Custom reconciles us to everything.

Custom, that unwritten law, By which the people keep even kings in awe.

Custom, then, is the great guide of human life.

Customs and convictions change; respectable people are the last to know, or to admit, the change, and the ones most offended by fresh reflections of the facts in the mirror of art.

Customs form us all, our thoughts, our morals, our most fixed beliefs; are consequences of our place of birth.

Laws are subordinate to custom.

Nature is seldom in the wrong, custom always.

Nothing is more powerful than custom or habit.

Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.

Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.

People do more from custom than from reason.

People usually think according to their inclinations, speak according to their learning and ingrained opinions, but generally act according to custom.

The despotism of custom is everywhere the standing hindrance to human advancement.

The empire of custom is most mighty.

The way of the world is to make laws, but follow custom.

Without the aid of prejudice and custom, I should not be able to find my way across the room.