"I lost some time once, Its always in the last place you look for it."

    Delirium is the youngest of the Endless.

    She smells of sweat, sour wines, late nights, and leather.

    Her realm is close, and can be visited; however, human minds
were not made to comprehend her domain, and those few who
have made the journey have been incapable of reporting more
 than the tiniest fragments.

     The poet Coleridge claimed to have known her intimately, but
the man was an inveterate liar, and in this, as in so much, we
must doubt his word.

    Her apperance is the most variable of all the Endless, who at best,
are ideas cloaked in the semblance of flesh.  Her shadow's shape and
outline has no relationship to that of anybody she wears, and it is tangible, like old velvet

    Some say the tragedy of Delirium is her knowledge that , despite being
older than the suns, older than the gods, she is forever the youngest of the
Endless, who do not measure time as we measure time, or see the worlds
through mortal eyes.

    Others deny this, and say that Delirium has no tragedy, but there they
speak without reflection.

    For Delirium was once Delight.  And although that was long ago now,
even today her eyes are badly matched: one eye is a vivid emerald green,
spattered with silver flecks that move; her other eye is vien blue.