Milliliters In A Cup Quotes & Sayings

Anne Marie's beauty and style belie a down-and-dirty education in the particulars of practical AI (artificial insemination). She has miked a boar of his prodigious ejaculate
over two hundred milliliters (a cup), as compared to a man's three milliliters
and she has done it with her hand. For, unlike stallions and bulls, boars don't cotton to artificial vaginas. (in part, because their penis, like their tail, is corkscrewed.) AI techs must squeeze the organ in their hand
hard and without letup
for the entire duration of the ejaculation: from five to fifteen minutes. "You should see the size of their hands," she says, of the men and women who regular ejaculate boars. — Mary Roach

As an adolescent, I was painfully shy, withdrawn. I didn't really have the nerve to sing my songs on stage, and nobody else was doing them. I decided to do them in disguise so that I didn't have to actually go through the humiliation of going on stage and being myself. — David Bowie

In all cases where work is produced by heat, a quantity of heat proportional to the work done is expended; and inversely, by the expenditure of a like quantity of work, the same amount of heat may be produced. — Rudolf Clausius

My feelings have changed about ballroom dancing because when I am mad I can dance to blow some steam off. Dancing is fun because you can dance to tunes like 'Hit the Road Jack'. — David

I can say that when you model,when you get to a certain age, that's it for you. I remember there was a time where I was like, 'What am I going to do with my life?' I am a high school dropout who's only modeled. So there was desperation with that. — Rene Russo

There is no lake at Camp Green Lake. — Louis Sachar

He went into the kitchen. It was eight in the evening. He tried to shut the bright spring evening out with the curtains, but it forced its way past them in places, dust-filled sunbeams that lit up the gloom in his flat. Spring and summer were not Erlendur's seasons. Too bright. Too frivolous. He wanted heavy, dark winters. Finding nothing edible in the kitchen, he sat down at the table with his chin resting in his hand. — Arnaldur Indridason