mind, this Cretan countryside resembled good prose, carefully ordered,
sober, free from superfluous ornament, powerful and restrained. It
expressed all that was necessary with the greatest economy. It had no
flippancy, nor artifice about it. It said what it had to say with a manly
austerity. But between the severe lines one could discern an unexpected
sensitiveness and tenderness ; in the sheltered hollows the lemon and
orange trees perfumed the air, and from the vastness of the sea emanated
an inexhaustible poetry.
I murmured. "Crete..." and my heart beat fast.
Kazantzakis, "Zorba the Greek"