I do not know how long ago that idea was bred in me, but I know that I cannot remember back to a time when the thought of either of these symbols of gracious and unapproachable perfection did not at once suggest the other.

If I thought of the ice-storm, the Taj rose before me divinely beautiful; if I thought of the Taj, with its encrustings and inlayings of jewels, the vision of the ice-storm rose.

And so, to me, all these years, the Taj has had no rival among the temples and palaces of men, none that even remotely approached it--it was man's architectural ice-storm.
Here in London the other night I was talking with some Scotch and English friends, and I mentioned the ice-storm, using it as a figure--a figure which failed, for none of them had heard of the ice-storm.

One gentleman, who was very familiar with American literature, said he had never seen it mentioned in any book.

That is strange.