There is no accounting for taste and no taste for accounting.

Marty confronts Don, ripping into him and demanding to know what's going on, ... Don looks at him and says, 'I'll get 'em on the next hole.'

One might trouble one's dainty snout with a whiff of the taleggio displayed in an artisanal cheese shop, or take a saucer of jasmine tea and a knuckle of fennel-scented snuff at a counter of buffed Big Nothing granite. But there was a want in these ladies yet, and it was for the rude life of youth.

I'm not too fond of really cool design. I've got quite kitsch taste really, in things like tableware. I'm quite a sucker for 1930s pressed glass.

He had his choice, and he liked the worst.

A LITTLE TASTE.