it goes on, i have seen the eternal footman hold my coat and snicker and in short, i was afraid. what i want to draw our attention to is how he keeps coming back to this theme. for instance when he writes -- if one settling the pillow by her head should say, that is not what i meant at all, that is not it at all. and a little later -- it is impossible to say just what i mean. and again, if one settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl and turning to the window should say, that is not it at all. that is not what i meant at all. so when you read this poem it reads somewhat as string of -- stream of consciousness. which is sort of fitting. it wasn't. he actually worked very hard on it, but nevertheless, you get that impression. but those scenes i pulled out here, it is undermining a 19th-century confidence in the power and accuracy of words. eliot writes, it is impossible to say just what i mean. that is not what i meant at all. the meaning of words themselves, let alone the meaning of truth or love or beauty is slippery. it's hard to pin down. life in this complicated modern world