Honestly, Mum, how can you say someone's a great writer if you've got a stack of reference books next to you? It's just showing off. If I behaved like that in front of other people, you'd totally tell me off when we got home. So.why is it alright for T. S. Eliot to swagger about like a complete know it all and make the rest of us feel stupid?

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I shed?' and, 'Do I shed?'
Time to turn back and stretch out on the bed,
And give myself a bath before I'm fed --
(They will say: 'It's the short-haired ones I prefer.')
My flea collar buckled neatly in my fur,
My expression cool and distant but softened by a gentle purr --
(They will say: 'I'm allergic to his fur!')
Do I dare
Jump up on the table?
In an instant there is time
For excursions and inversions that will make me seem unstable."

(From The Love Song of J. Morris Housecat)

Let us roam then, you and I,
When the evening is splayed out across the sky
[...]
Paths that follow like a nagging accusation
Of a minor violation
To lead you to the ultimate reproof ...
Oh, do not say, 'Bad kitty!'
Let us go and prowl the city.

In the rooms the cats run to and fro
Auditioning for a Broadway show."

(From The Love Song of J. Morris Housecat)

But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But the cat himself knows, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

I do not know of anything in modern poetry as violently hostile to contemporary life as was the poetry of T. S. Eliot, which so perfectly fitted the mood of the young people between the two wars. I also find much more benevolence towards humanity in younger historians than there was in Spengler or in Toynbee. Still, it is not difficult to sense the disgust of the intellectuals at the new prosperous working class, 'with their eyes glued to the television screen,' who have become indifferent to radical ideas.

You can't prove a negative. I can't prove there are no such thing as vampires any more than you can prove you're not a lesbian.