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The way to stop financial joy-riding is to arrest the chauffeur, not the automobile.
--
The Atlanta Constitution (14 January 1914), p. 1.

 

(Thomas) Woodrow Wilson

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You'll be riding along in an automobile. You'll be the driver perhaps. You're a Christian. There'll be several people in the automobile with you, maybe someone who is not a Christian. When the trumpet sounds you and the other born-again believers in that automobile will be instantly caught away - you will disappear, leaving behind only your clothes and physical things that cannot inherit eternal life. That unsaved person or persons in the automobile will suddenly be startled to find the car suddenly somewhere crashes... Other cars on the highway driven by believers will suddenly be out of control and stark pandemonium will occur on ... every highway in the world where Christians are caught away from the drivers wheel.

 

Jerry Falwell

 

So think about the poor slave who could read, but was scared to teach their kids to read for fear they would be killing their kids. Think about the poor slave that rode to town every week. Think about the poor slave who rode the buggy to town every week. Riding the buggy … riding the buggy, and he could read, and is riding the buggy and he's riding the buggy. And up ahead he sees a busy intersection, and is riding the buggy and he's riding the buggy. Then he sees a STOP sign … Now he's in a big dilemma. "If I go through this intersection, I'm a have a accident. If I stop, these crackers will kill me." And he's riding the buggy, and in the last minute he says "f**k it", goes through the intersection, has a big ol' accident. Almost kills somebody. Then the police come: "Nigga, what is wrong with you? Nigga, what the f**k is wrong with you? You could have killed somebody, nigga. Didn't see that stop sign?" "Oh, I don't know what you talking about." "You didn't see that stop sign, that stop sign back there?" "Oh, you mean that octagon thing." "Nigga, who taught you octagon?"

 

Chris Rock

 

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding —
Riding — riding —
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

 

Alfred Noyes

 

Where there's no stop and go
a thought may wet your face,
a breath arrest your stare.

 

Nathaniel Tarn

 

O time, arrest your flight! and you, propitious hours, arrest your course! Let us savor the fleeting delights of our most beautiful days!

 

Alphonse de Lamartine