Alas! Man's vices, horrible as they are supposed to be, contain the positive proof of his taste for the infinite.
What is exhilarating in bad taste is the aristocratic pleasure of giving offense.
Love is a taste for prostitution. In fact, there is no noble pleasure that cannot be reduced to Prostitution.
The vices of man, as full of horror as one might suppose them to be, contain the proof (if in nothing else but their infinitely expandable nature) of his taste for the infinite; only, it is a taste that often takes a wrong turn.
The taste for pleasure attaches us to the present. The concern with our salvation leaves us hanging on the future.