The blades whipped the snowflakes into fine, blinding swirls as the helicopter settled to earth. The pilot cut the engine, the rotor slowed and, as we stepped out, the air cleared, unveiling a setting of wintry enchantment. Faint rises in the snow suggested the outlines of a garden. All around us half-covered statues stood in white anonymity. Later I would discover what the snow concealed, Calders, Giacomettis, Noguchis, an Aphrodite once thought to be the work of Praxiteles.
- From The Imperial Rockefeller: A Biography of Nelson A. Rockefeller by Joseph E. Persico
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