Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.
Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it.
We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
Channeling is just bad ventriloquism. You use another voice, but people can see your lips moving.
I guess every generation is doomed to fight its war, . . . suffer the loss of the same old illusions, and learn the same old lessons on its own.
I know you'll leave. I don't have any grand illusions.
—Abbi Glines in Until The End
Despair is the only cure for illusion. Without despair we cannot transfer our allegiance to reality — it is a kind of mourning period for our fantasies. Some people do not survive this despair, but no major change within a person can occur without it.