Jaisana

“but eventually rage burns out and leaves nothing but ash, a muted landscape drawn in charcoal gray.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“She accumulated the dust of other worlds on her skin like ten thousand perfumes, and left constellations of wistful men and impossible tales in her wake.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “maybe I did not make myself clear before, when I said I was on your side. I meant also that I would like to be at your side, to go with you into every door and danger, to run with you into your tangled-up future. For”—and a distant part of me was gratified to note that his voice had gone wobbly and strained—“for always. If you like.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“we address stories as archaeological sites, and dust through their layers with meticulous care, we find at some level there is always a doorway. A dividing point between here and there, us and them, mundane and magical. It is at the moments when the doors open, when things flow between the worlds, that stories happen.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January