Lipton’s Journal/December 31, 1954/135

I used to be outwardly a mild psychopath, inwardly enormously moral and severe on myself. Now, outwardly I’m moral (almost saintly I love my friends so much) and inwardly my mind races far, wild, and furiously like the psychopath stalking the present, letting nothing pass my ken. The tiniest most insignificant gesture or remark opens a world to me. (This could be a note for Marion Faye, too, who realizes that Lipton’s left him unaffected before because he was afraid of the intellectual consequence—he would have to set out to be a genius or a saint.)