'... a garden, so green and sweet-smelling that we cannot believe it is winter, that we are in the middle of January. Beds of mignonettes, stocks, and roses are all in scented flower. Oranges and lemons shine on the trees amid their dark leaves. We stroll through an avenue of laurels to the natural balcony which the wall makes, looking out towards the campagna. Below us we can see solitary burial monuments, the yellow curving Tiber and, far out to the horizon, a glass-clear strip - the Mediterranean... Up here, the roses are in bloom, the warm rays of the sun kiss the green leaves of the laurel-bush, and the foreigner drinks in a picture of the loveliness of the South that will never fade from his thoughts.'
from A Visit - Hans Christian Andersen
