from Jeffrey Eugenides' Asleep in the Lord

Few of us are not in some way infirm, or even diseased; and our very infirmities help us unexpectedly. In [this] temperament we have the emotionality which is the sine qua non or moral perception; we have the intensity and the tendency to emphasis which are the essence of practical moral vigor; and we have love of metaphysics and mysticism which carry one's interests beyond the surface of the sensible world. What, then, is more natural than that this temperament should introduce one to regions of religious truth, to corners of the universe, which your robust Philistine type of nervous system, forever offering its biceps to be felt, thumping its breast, and thanking Heaven that it hasn't a single morbid fiber in its composition, would be sure to hide forever from its self-satisfied possessors?
If there were such a thing as inspiration from a higher realm, it might well be that the neurotic temperament would furnish the chief condition of the requisite receptivity.

In Europe, he had found churches everywhere, spectacular cathedrals as well as quiet little chapels, all of them still functioning (though usually empty), each one open to a wandering pilgrim. He'd gone into these dark, superstitious spaces to stare at faded frescoes or crude, bloody paintings of Christ. He'd peered into dusty reliquary jars containing the bones of St. Whoever. In stiff-backed pews, smelling candle wax, he'd closed his eyes and sat as still as possible, opening himself up to whatever was there that might be interested in him. Maybe there was nothing. But how would you ever know if you didn't send out a signal?

I mean those who, when unhappiness is offered or proposed to them, positively refuse to feel it, as if it were something mean and wrong, according to William James' categories.

For whole minutes, he forgot who he was. Outside, he tried, and often succeeded in, disappearing to himself in order to be, paradoxically, more present.

Angels kept vigil over graves, their faces worn away.

Even a deserted cemetery had its custodian. Asleep in the Lord. Asleep in. Asleep.

You went barefoot in New York?
It is wonderful barefoot in New York. It is like walking on one big giant tomb!

Jesus said you should give to whoever asks you.
Yeah, well, obviously Jesus was never in Calcutta.