Extracting from the marrow of infamy (A treatise)

It is an inextensible mileage of dearth, that separates, the sensible probity of honorable precept, and the immature caprice of morbid impulse. It is without quandary nor ambivalence, that we find the notion of human intelligence, a fragile dialect, recurring to our mold, as only a subjective revelation of fortune. It is then that I remind, those that have succumbed to that despicable obscenity of the common designation, which is that intelligence must suffice proficiency, and thus the ultimate course of prudence and intuition ...it is then that I remind those that believe in the conversant constance of righteous aptitude, that those who sin are neither fools nor irresponsible performers. Those who have arrogantly surmised, that no such deed may fall upon their mind, only consider the fraction of circumstance, which serendipity has granted them, at convenient register of accommodation. In the end, sin is not simply in the 'thinking' nor is it to be imputed to the discernment of the subject, but rather it is the very erotic sensation, of itself, impinged on the fine thread of the inevitable interval.