This is the law: blood spilt upon the ground cries out for more.
Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes. Anything might be done in that time. Anything. Nothing. Oh, he had had hundreds of hours, and what had he done with them? Wasted them, spilt the precious minutes as though his reservoir were inexhaustible.
Torrents of blood have been spilt in the world in vain attempts of the secular arm to extinguish religious discord, by proscribing all differences in religious opinions.
Mix your drinks, and it's best not to cry over spilt milk, but put it back in the bottle.
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.
Don't cry over spilt milk.
Love's too precious to be lost, A little grain shall not be spilt.
A creature that never cries over spilt milk: a cat.
One part of love is innocence One part of love is guilt One part the milk that in a sense Is soured as soon as spilt One part of love is sentiment One part of love is lust One part is the presentiment Of our return to dust
It's no use crying over spilt evils. It's better to mop them up laughing.
I spilt paint all over the bar, they almost fired me.
Ceremony keeps up things: 'tis like a penny glass to a rich spirit, or some excellent water; without it the water were spilt, and the spirit lost.
Never cry over spilt milk, because it may have been poisoned.
It's no use crying over spilt summits.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
It's no good crying over spilt milk; all we can do is bail up another cow
