Will Young
Will Young
William Robert "Will" Youngis an English singer-songwriter and actor who came to prominence after winning the 2002 inaugural series of the British music contest Pop Idol, making him the first winner of the worldwide Idol franchise. His double A-sided debut single "Anything Is Possible" / "Evergreen" was released two weeks after the show's finale and became the fastest-selling debut single in the UK. Young also came in fifth place in World Idol performing his single "Light My Fire"...
ProfessionPop Singer
Date of Birth20 January 1979
CityWokingham, England
Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
The qualities all in a bee that we meet, In an epigram never should fail; The body should always be little and sweet, And a sting should be felt in its tail.
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?.
Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
Satire recoils whenever charged too high; round your own fame the fatal splinters fly.
However smothered under former negligence, or scattered through the dull, dark mass of common thoughts - let thy genius rise as the sun from chaos.
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam; Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom... And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.
Born originals, how comes it to pass that we die copies? That meddling ape imitation, as soon as we come to years of indiscretion, (so let me speak,) snatches the pen, and blots out nature's mark of separation, cancels her kind intention, destroys all mental individuality. The lettered world no longer consists of singulars: it is a medley, a mass; and a hundred books, at bottom, are but one.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous; Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
Midway from Nothing to the Deity!
We wish our names eternally to live; Wild dream! which ne'er had haunted human thought, Had not our natures been eternal too.