There is the illusion of time, which is very deep; who has disposed of it? Mor come to the conviction that what seems the succession of thought is only the distribution of wholes into causal series.
Time is indeed the theater and seat of illusions; nothing is so ductile and elastic. The mind stretches an hour to a century, and dwarfs an age to an hour.
We wake from one dream into another dream.
One of the illusions of life is that the present hour is not the critical, decisive one.
There is an optical illusion about every person we meet.
Truth is too simple for us: we do not like those who unmask our illusions.
The most dangerous thing is illusion.