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I don't like looking back. I'm always constantly looking forward. I'm not the one to sort of sit and cry over spilt milk. I'm too busy looking for the next cow.
You know, you only get to live life once, so there are two things that that yields. One is that there's no point in crying over spilt milk, but secondly you hate wasting time, energy, and whatever talent you've got.
There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
I mean, there's no point in sittin' around and cryin' about spilt milk. Gotta move on.
What atonement is there for blood spilt upon the earth?
I'm always the girl at the party who, within five minutes, has taken my heels off, hitched up my dress in my knickers, and probably spilt drink down my cleavage.
I know that I'm very lucky to be alive. For 35 or 40 years I've spilt my blood and broke my bones and spent years in hospitals.
There is no sense in crying over spilt milk. Why bewail what is done and cannot be recalled?
It's no use crying over spilt summits.
Never cry over spilt milk, because it may have been poisoned.
