Elizabeth Bibesco
Elizabeth Bibesco
Elizabeth, Princess Bibescowas an English writer and socialite. She was the daughter of a British Prime Minister and the wife of a Romanian aristocrat. Active as a writer between 1921 and 1940, she drew on her experience in British high society in her work. A final posthumous collection of her stories, poems and aphorisms was published under the title Haven in 1951, with a preface by Elizabeth Bowen...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth26 February 1897
punishment joy
Are there any punishments in life but our joys turned against us?
loss cutting gains
It is harder to cut our gains than our losses.
haste pay tribute
He is invariably in a hurry being in a hurry is one of the tributes he pays to life.
ideas religion ten-commandments
The Ten Commandments don't tell you what you ought to do: They only put ideas into your head.
friendship jobs dangerous
Friendship is a difficult, dangerous job. It is also (though we rarely admit it) extremely exhausting.
hygiene mind irony
Irony is the hygiene of the mind.
seeing
Seeing through is rarely seeing into.
inspirational positive thank-you
Blessed are those who give without remembering and take without forgetting.
reading holocaust bombs
You don't have to signal a social conscience by looking like a frump. Lace knickers won't hasten the holocaust, you can ban the bomb in a feather boa just as well as without, and a mild interest in the length of hemlines doesn't necessarily disqualify you from reading Das Kapital and agreeing with every word.
mind stranger
The image of ourselves in the minds of others is the picture of a stranger we shall never see.
love being-alone bye
It is never good dwelling on good-byes ... it is not the being together that it prolongs, it is the parting.
friendship casts performers
To others we are not ourselves but a performer in their lives cast for a part we do not even know that we are playing.
people impossible
To some people the impossible is impossible.
happiness joy brightness
Happiness is the moment when you cease to make an inventory of joys; it is a glow, a brightness - never a list ...