Walter Bagehot

The imitative propensity at once insures uniformity; and 'that horrid thing we wore last year' (as the phrase may go) is soon nowhere to be seen.

The same patronage of favoured forms, and persecution of disliked forms, are the main causes too, I believe, which change national character.

Some one attractive type catches the eye, so to speak, of the nation, or a part of the nation, as servants catch the gait of their masters, or as mobile girls come home speaking the special words and acting the little gestures of each…

The change is what every one feels, though no one can define it.

Each predominant mind calls out a corresponding sentiment in the country: most feel it a little.

Those who feel it much express it much; those who feel it excessively express it excessively; those who dissent are silent, or unheard.

The bane of philosophy is pomposity: people will not see that small things are the miniatures of greater, and it seems a loss of abstract dignity to freshen their minds by object lessons from what they know.

The models were changed, and the copies changed; a different thing was praised, and a different thing bullied.

The radical tailor started the radical cheer; the more moderate shoemaker started the moderate cheer; and the great bulk followed suit.

The truth is that the propensity of man to imitate what is before him is one of the strongest parts of his nature.

And one sign of it is the great pain which we feel when our imitation has been unsuccessful.

There is a cynical doctrine that most men would rather be accused of wickedness than of gaucherie.

We must not think that this imitation is voluntary, or even conscious.

The main seat of the imitative part of our nature is our belief, and the causes predisposing us to believe this, or disinclining us to believe that, are among the obscurest parts of our nature.

But as to the imitative nature of credulity there can be no doubt.

Scarcely any one can help yielding to the current infatuations of his sect or party.

For a short time--say some fortnight--he is resolute; he argues and objects; but, day by day, the poison thrives, and reason wanes.

What he hears from his friends, what he reads in the party organ, produces its effect.

The plain, palpable conclusion which every one around him believes, has an influence yet greater and more subtle; that conclusion seems so solid and unmistakable; his own good arguments get daily more and more like a dream.

Soon the gravest sage shares the folly of the party with which he acts, and the sect with which he worships.

In true metaphysics I believe that, contrary to common opinion, unbelief far oftener needs a reason and requires an effort than belief.

The child resolutely accepts every idea which passes through its brain as true; it has no distinct conception of an idea which is strong, bright, and permanent, but which is false too.

The mere presentation of an idea, unless we are careful about it, or unless there is within some unusual resistance, makes us believe it; and this is why the belief of others adds to our belief so quickly, for no ideas seem so very clear…

The grave part of mankind are quite as liable to these imitated beliefs as the frivolous part.

The belief of the money-market, which is mainly composed of grave people, is as imitative as any belief.