In conversation with James Agate, September 30, 1941; reported by Agate in his Ego 5 (London: Harrap, 1942) p. 136.
Sometimes also attributed to John Maynard Keynes.
Margot Asquith:
12
frasi
0
Mi piace
Margot Asquith: Frasi in inglese
The Autobiography of Margot Asquith (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963) p. 249. (1922).
“You can do something with talent, but nothing with genius….”
Quoted in Jack Fishman's My Darling Clementine, the biography of Winston Churchill's wife. (p. 131).
“Kitchener, a great man or a great poster?”
Attributed to Margot Asquith, as in Sir Philip Magnus, Kitchener: Portrait of an Imperialist (1938, ch. xiv): "Mrs. Asquith remarked indiscreetly that if Kitchener was not a great man, he was, at least, a great poster." Asquith herself, however, wrote in More Memories (London: Cassel, 1933, p. 135) that the remark was made by her daughter, Elizabeth Bibesco.
Misattributed
“He couldn't see a belt without hitting below it.”
Quoted by her step-daughter Violet in The Listener, June 11, 1953.
Of Lloyd George.
“He's very clever, but sometimes his brains go to his head.”
Quoted by her step-daughter Violet in The Listener, June 11, 1953.
Of F. E. Smith.
Quoted by Mark Bonham Carter in his Introduction to the 1962 edition of The Autobiography of Margot Asquith (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1962) p. xxxv.
The Autobiography of Margot Asquith (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963) p. 63. (1920).
“She tells enough white lies to ice a wedding cake.”
Quoted by her step-daughter Violet in The Listener, June 11, 1953.
Of Lady Desborough.
“The t is silent, as in Harlow.”
Quoted in T. S. Matthews Great Tom (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), ch. 7.
Correcting Jean Harlow's pronunciation of Margot. It is sometimes said to have been the actress Margot Grahame who delivered this rebuke.
Variante: Margo. The 'T' is silent as in Harlow.
The Autobiography of Margot Asquith (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963) p. 291. (1922)
Of the crowds outside 10 Downing Street on August 3, 1914.
Dorothy Parker, "Re-enter Margot Asquith - A Masterpiece from the French," The New Yorker, October 22, 1927.
