I can’t help remembering here, also, a line from one of Flannery’ O’Connor’s short stories, “A Temple of the Holy Ghost”, wherein the narrator, a twelve year-old Southern girl who knows she is not particularly holy, though she would like to be, at least a little, thinks to herself, about halfway through the story, “She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick.”