Princess Elizabeth Bibesco (1897 – 1945)
English writer and poet, active between 1921 and 1940.
Each play worth seeing should be watched a second time on the faces of the audience.
Those we love are entitled to resent the allowances we make for them.
We are bound to those we love by their imperfections — their perfections help us to explain them to others.
The image of ourselves in the minds of others is the picture of a stranger we shall never see.
Our losses should frequently be put on the credit side.
Of what help is anyone who can only be approached with the right words?
Princess Bibesco delighted in a semi-ideal world — a world which, though having a counterpart in her experience, was to a great extent brought into being by her own temperament and, one might say, flair.
It is easier to be generous than to be just.
She is pasty and podgy, with the eyes of a currant bun, suddenly protruding with animation.
A brilliant woman whose perpetual wit made my head swim.
Blessed are those who give without remembering and take without forgetting.
Prince Antoine Bibesco, when asked (by her mother, Margot Asquith) why his wife didn't do more "good works", such as visiting a hospital, replied, "Dearest Margot, Elizabeth visits a hospital three times a week, with the result that the lame walk, the blind see, and the dumb would speak if they could get a word in edgeways."
Miss Asquith, who was probably unsurpassed in intelligence by any of her contemporaries ... looked like a lovely figure in an Italian fresco.
To be on a pedestal is to be in a corner.
Winter draws what summer paints.
I always felt a deep malaise in her — her writing and the fluctuations of her brilliant and esoteic conversation led her everywhere but to self-satisfaction.
My soul has gained the freedom of the night.
Death is part of this life and not of the next.
Perfect moments don't turn into half-hours.
To regret your sins of commission as much as your sins of omission is to prove yourself a most unworthy sinner.