Quotes About Conformity

It was a mistake to speak one's mind at any time, unless it perfectly matched your political purpose; and it never did.

Maybe I exclude myself from that genre by not getting dressed up often enough, by acting ghetto most of the time, and running around in sweats and Timberlands.

We were born in this society, we grew up in this society. And we learn to be like everyone else, playing nonsense all the time.

Nothing so needs reforming as other people's habits.

When majority is insane, sane must go to asylum.

Conformity—the natural instinct to passively yield to that vague something recognized as authority.

I know your race. It is made up of sheep. It is governed by minorities, seldom or never by majorities. It suppresses its feelings and its beliefs and follows the handful that makes the most noise.

she makes me wash, they make me comb all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed... the widder [widow] eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she wakes up by a bell-everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it

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.

Customs do not concern themselves with right or wrong or reason. But they have to be obeyed; one reasons all around them until he is tired, but he must not transgress them, it is sternly forbidden.

When your opinions start to coincide with those of the majority, it is time to reconsider your opinions.

There are," said Twain, "certain sweet-smelling, sugarcoated lies current in the world which all politic men have apparently tacitly conspired together to support and perpetuate… We are discreet sheep; we wait to see how the drove is going and then go with the drove. We have two opinions: one private, which we are afraid to express, and another one -- the one we use -- which we force ourselves to wear to please Mrs. Grundy.

Ä°nsan bir bukalemundur; doÄŸas?n?n yasas? gereÄŸi, bulunduÄŸu yerin rengini al?r. Çevresindeki etkiler onun tercihlerini, kaç?nd??? ÅŸeyleri, politikas?n?, beÄŸenilerini, ahlak?n?, dinini yarat?r.

but good-hearted and companionable, obedient to their parents and the priest; and as they grew up they became properly stocked with narrowness and prejudices got at second hand from their elders, and adopted without reserve; and without examination also—which goes without saying. Their religion was inherited, their politics the same. John Huss and his sort might find fault with

In this world one must be like everybody else if he doesn't want to provoke scorn or envy or jealousy.

The Widow Douglas she took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize me; but it was rough living in the house all the time, considering how dismal regular and decent the widow was in all her ways; and so when I couldn't stand it no longer I lit out. I got into my old rags and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied.

Kendini çoÄŸunluÄŸun taraf?nda bulduÄŸun an, durup düÅŸünmenin vakti gelmiÅŸ demektir.

Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't stand it. It's awful to be tied up so.

I was back to being polite, the well-tempered paranoid. I didn't have much of a choice. If I wasn't polite, they could stick me with those needles or put me back in that little room or take away my visitor privileges or any number of other things. Besides, there didn't seem to be any urgency or anything to be gained by not being polite, the way there had been before. So I was polite. There was time.

I thought I was white bread.

At meetings I've heard people say proudly that they have no original thoughts, that everything they say they learned in meetings or from reading the Big Book. Wouldn't that be nice? I have so many original thoughts I have to take medication for it.

I was back to being polite, the well-tempered paranoid. I didn't have much choice. If I wasn't polite, they could stick me with those needles or put me back in that little room or take away my visitor privileges or any number of other things. Besides, there didn't seem any urgency or anything to be gained by not being polite, the way there had been before. So I was polite. There was time.

It was pointless. The crowd was itself. There was no swaying it, squeezing through, or reasoning with it. You breathed with it and you sang its songs. You waited for its fire.

Keeping your nose clean while an entire system broke down around you guaranteed only that you would survive longer, not that you would survive.