This is the hardest thing. You can love friends. You can see the potential they have. You can KNOW there is good IN them, but it means NOTHING if they can't be secure enough to know it themselves. It's like trying to rescue a drowning person, but you know they're going to drown you both if you jump in to try to save them...so you keep throwing life preservers out hoping they'll get a grip and let you help without pulling you under too...sigh.
"Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it." ~ C. S. Lewis
Langston Hughes, a Harlem Renaissance poet, helped pave the way for African American writers to be heard in the 1900's with his first published book "The Weary Blues" which was published in 1926. This was yet another way that Modernist literature was creating a new atmosphere in American Society.
“A time may come soon," said he, "when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised." ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King