I just learned Luciano Pavarotti has passed away. Such a terrible day for humanity.

I love Opera. I always thought if I die in the middle of listening to Pavarotti singing Recitar or Nessun Dorma, it would have been the perfect death. What is really the meaning of happiness, other than catching these rare instants of pure beauty?

His voice like the fire of thunders, like the sound of rains, like the magical evanescence of mists reveals the boredom of our mortal lives.