Good customs

I have taken from the pantry a package of biscuits, good ones.
I opened it some time ago, for the breakfast of one of my sons. They had not liked the flavour; and therefore the pastries had been carefully sealed and put away. Now, in spite of all precautions they become hard as steel, and can't be eat.
Every thing, also a good one, after some time goes stale. The only things that can survive the passing of the time are the alive ones, those who can adapt themselves, answer to the circumstances in new ways taking from experience.
"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world."
Tennyson make his dying Arthur say.
The evil often arrives from the good intention. Every dictator, revolutionary, conqueror or crazy killer has started from his own good plan to impose to the rest of the world. Satan itself, deep down, had its good reasons in order to rebel to God.
Let's not permit our own good custom to become everything, to be everything. Making us, in its defense, moralists, ideologists, demons.
The biscuits? I have thrown them away.