his all upon a small volume of poems, among which there may be one, conceived in some happy hour, that shall live.
After the few great reputations there is perhaps no better anchorage in the vast sea of fame than a single sonnet like that of Blanco White.
Since, at the best, one's reputation is to be determined by one's high-water mark, why not be content with that alone?
If all but the one best work must surely be forgotten, why should the rest be called into existence?
Let it perish with to be next to fine doing, the top thing in the universe; and we must not forget that Wolfe, before Quebec, pronounced fine writing to be the greater thing of the two.
The crowning instances of high-water marks are in those poems which, like Blanco White's sonnet, alone bear the writer's name down to posterity.
How completely the truculent Poe fancied that he had extinguished for all time the poetry of my gifted and wayward kinsman, Ellery Channing; and yet it is not at all certain that the o