In prehistoric times it was a major no-no to cheekily separate the particle ‘to’ from its infinitive verb. ‘Do not split the infinitive’ was the law of the land. ‘What in the world are you talking about?’ responded anyone born after 1960. In fact, since that time the rule has more or less been ignored.
And then came its death knell, on September 8, 1966:
Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before. – Star Trek
There is no longer any controversy, and for good or ill, the lowly adverb has flourished (despite ending in ‘-ly’, ‘lowly’ in this sentence is an adjective, and ‘adverb’ is a noun. Had to get that out there). Perhaps an adverb’s highest honor is to breezily insert itself into an otherwise mundane sentence.
An adverb’s highest honor is to breezily insert itself into an otherwise mundane sentence.
An adverb’s highest honor is to insert itself, breezily, into an otherwise mundane sentence.
What if we could do without adverbs altogether? The world would be a better place.
Inserted into an otherwise mundane sentence, the adverb felt mighty proud.
The adverb brightened the terminus of the otherwise mundane sentence.
It worked behind the scenes to buttress the verb’s presentation and eliminate the need for itself. This is an adverb’s highest honor.