Carmen didn't like change, and she certainly didn't like endings.

You thought you had the choice to stay still or move forward, but your didn't. As long as your heart kept pumping an your blood kept blowing and your lungs kept filling, you didn't. The pang she felt for Tibby carried something like envy. You couldn't stand still for anything short of death, and God knew she had tried.

I love the idea of fictional worlds kind of all cohering in some way.

Their friendship was only one aspect of their lives but it seemed to give meaning to all the others.

Knowing where she was in the world, even if he never touched her, gave him a deep satisfaction, and he half despised himself for being satisfied with so little.

She existed in her friends; there she was. All the parts of herself she'd forgotten. She knew herself best when she was with them.

The happiness at getting what you want is not usually commensurate with the worry leading up to it.