Sentences should be pounded into form while they're still hot, then painted once they have cooled.
Sentences should be conjured up from the cracks in the earth and given wealthy sacrifices such that they might tell us true things.
Sentences should be hunted for weeks, waiting for one to break from the herd.
Sentences should be woken up gently, but if they're not dressed by the time you get back you should probably throw cold water at them.
Sentences should be rescued from the concentration camps where the bad authors abuse them, yell at them, and feed them moldy bread that the mice got to first.
Sentences should be found in a dark cave after a rumor in a tavern led you to them.
Sentences should be detected by the ship's sensors and hailed with a message of peace in all known languages.
Sentences should be trapped by your officers, making sure they can't dart down an alleyway or climb over a fire escape.
Sentences should have to take at least fifteen credit hours before being allowed to be used in advanced paragraphs.
Sentences should be forced to write, just like therapists should be psychoanalyzed and surgeons should be cut on.
Sentences should be periodically checked for fleas, lice, or worms, and if any are found the appropriate medicine should be applied as soon as possible.
Sentences should be left on a low simmer; periodically adding sugar and butter and giving it a good stir until they go creamy again.
Sentences should be gradually exposed to the dangers of the world, never coddled as if they won't ever find out, because they will and it's better for them to learn to deal with it as early as possible.
Sentences should follow the white lights, which lead to red lights and exit signs.
Sentences should be encouraged to vote: if they don't start young they never will, and it's important for each sentence's voice to be heard.
Sentences will listen to everything you tell them, and even if they don't obey you, they will hear you, so be careful what you say.