An Illusion (n.) always consists in taking the subjective basis of a judgment for an objective one.
An Illusion (n.) carried by the ideas of reason is inevitable — though it can be prevented from leading us astray.
An Illusion (n.) of the dialectical kind still deceives even once one is no longer fooled by it — it can be rendered harmless but never destroyed.
Illusion (n.) is, after Kant, a greater threat to thought than error: it comes from within reason, like a magnetic zone where every compass needle goes mad.
An Illusion (n.) begins the moment I attribute to the thing itself what belongs to it only in relation to my senses — redness to the rose in itself, the handles to Saturn.
An Illusion (n.) is a stormy ocean where fog banks and melting icebergs pretend to be new lands, deceiving the voyager with empty hopes into adventures he can never escape and never finish.
An Illusion (n.) of the logical kind vanishes the moment attention turns to the rule it imitates; it is only a lapse of attentiveness.
An Illusion (n.) of the everyday kind teaches less than an alien one that is sensibly thought out — so read the enemy of religion, not the dogmatic defender of the good cause.
An Illusion (n.) is never the fault of the senses but of the understanding, whose lot alone it is to make an objective judgment from appearance — the planets do not lie when they seem to go backward.