In the name of daybreak
and the eyelids of morning
and the wayfaring moon
and the night when it departs,
I swear I will not dishonor
my soul with hatred
but offer myself humbly
as a guardian of nature,
as a healer of misery
as a messenger of wonder
as an architect of peace.
Pavarotti retains a kind of religious, mystical, commitment to his "work.”And he insists on referring to it as "work,” claiming: "You can always love your work; your profession, at best, you can exercise.”Few people realize that the joyful tenor, the man who is always smiling, is almost a cloistered monk . . .