Custom reconciles us to everything.
Custom, that unwritten law, By which the people keep even kings in awe.
Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.
Without the aid of prejudice and custom, I should not be able to find my way across the room.
Customs form us all, our thoughts, our morals, our most fixed beliefs; are consequences of our place of birth.
Custom, then, is the great guide of human life.
The despotism of custom is everywhere the standing hindrance to human advancement.
Nature is seldom in the wrong, custom always.
The way of the world is to make laws, but follow custom.
Nothing is more powerful than custom or habit.
Laws are subordinate to custom.
Custom is a tyrant.