Last Updated 23/10/2009 © Villa Ralfa 2009
Gay owned and run accommodation, and lodgings, bed and breakfast hotel and inn for the independent gay travel ler near Hersonissos, Crete, Greece
Nikos Kazantzakis - A Tribute
High on the list, if not at the top, of famous Cretans, Kazantzakis was born in Heraklion. Not widely known outside of Greece until the release of the film Zorba The Greek in 1964, seven years after his death, Kazantzakis was a prolific writer with many novels based on the history of Crete, several plays and some travel books based on his travels around Europe and the Far East.
High on the list, if not at the top, of famous Cretans, Kazantzakis was born in Heraklion. Not widely known outside of Greece until the release of the film Zorba The Greek in 1964, seven years after his death, Kazantzakis was a prolific writer with many novels based on the history of Crete, several plays and some travel books based on his travels around Europe and the Far East.
As well as the Nikos Kazantzakis Museum in Myrtia, there is also a room dedicated to him at the Museum of Crete in Heraklion. His grave can be found on the city ramparts of Heraklion near the Kenourgia Gate where his grave carries the epitaph ‘I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I am free’
‘‘To my 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 authority. 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.
‘Crete.‘ I murmured. ’Crete...‘ and my heart beat fast.’‘ ’
Nikos Kazantzakis - Zorba the Greek
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 authority. 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.
‘Crete.‘ I murmured. ’Crete...‘ and my heart beat fast.’‘ ’
Nikos Kazantzakis -
