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when i first heard meta knight song the soulful beautiful, ballad, i started to cry.

1. When I first heard Meta Knight sing the soulful, beautiful ballad, I started to cry.

or

2. When I first heard Meta Knight sing the soulful and beautiful ballad, I started to cry.

Explanation:

explanation:

the intellectual community is a place like a university where people with high marks, or original thought or an outstanding interest in something gather. they take classes together. they discuss things. they argue sometimes, and not always in a friendly way. but if they argue, it is because they are passionate about something, and there is nothing the matter with that.

lately i've been hearing rumors that it is not the way it was when i went to school. the one thing all schools used to have was free speech. the 1st amendment rights were sacred. now i'm hearing they are not. students can be reported and disciplined for giving an off the wall opinion.

that is shameful.

intellectual ideas are meant to be discussed. they are meant to be chewed up and worked on. that is the primary responsibility of every intellectual community. if that is not the way it is, then that is not a school to go to.

social media, in my opinion, and this is just an opinion. i wouldn't take it too seriously, complicates everything to do with human communication. you can want to share things and others feel they have the right to be very critical or sarcastic or mean about what you share. lack of respect is an immeasurable intolerable condition and social media abounds with that sort of thing.

one of the things i really like about is how careful people are because they must have some idea that the mods are exactly what the word says they are. they police this board very well, and what is so remarkable about them is that they are no older than the average grade 12 student.

my hat goes off to them (which means i respect them quite a bit).

it was surely an odd creature that one made up by reading the historians first and the poets afterwards a worm winged like an eagle; the spirit of life and elegance and charm,   in a kitchen chopping up suet. but these creatures, monst'r however entertaining to the imagination, hast no existence in fact. what one might doth to bringeth h'r to life wast to bethink poetically and prosaically at one and the same moment,   thus keeping in toucheth with fact—that the lady is mrs martin, ag'd thirty-six, did dress in blue, wearing a black coxcomb and brown shoeth; but not losing sight of fiction eith'r—that the lady is a vessel in which all s'rts of spirits and f'rces art coursing and flashing p'rpetually. the moment, howev'r, yond one tries this method with the elizabethan mistress, one brancheth of illumination fails; one is did hold up by the scarcity of facts.   one knoweth nothing detailed, nothing p'rfectly true and substantial about h'r.   hist'ry scarcely mentions h'r.   and i did turn to professeth'r trevelyan again to seeth what hist'ry meanteth to that gent.   i hath found by looking at his chapt'r headings yond t meanteth.