hundred thousand people are leaving today the chinese state because of the tyrannic regime … my friends are waiting for their parents that are gonna arrive in berlin in a few days to start a new, free, life with no constrictions and no fair.
A hundred eyes feast on the sight before us. Our Ruler has just dropped dead in front of us. I turn to look around the murmuring crowd. As I here “Ruler is dead, Ruler is dead.” I spot the man who holds the smoking gun, just as everyone else turns to him. “He killed her.” echoes through the stadium, and everyone’s gaze turns to him. Finally over the shock, the whole crowd cheers and the man is lifted up above our shoulders. I cry out in joy and Ryan kisses me in delight. He picks me up and twirls me around. “She’s dead!”
Hundred. It was the amount of people he had killed. A hundred. methodical. Singular. He set out to be infamous. And according to the papers, the internet, talk. he had done it. Now he’s about to set out for his next hundred.
One hundred days later and he was in my apartment, drinking my coffee and using my computer. I was wearing his sweater and nothing else as I cooked scrambled eggs over the stove and Lana Del Ray played over the radio, her musty voice the soundtrack to my day.
One hundred ducks all in a row.black,white,yellow and gold.Pretty little duckies look at them go.Run duckies run.Go far far away the hunters are coming.Short and fat ones,tall and skinny ones,and mean and ugle ones.
I see them standing there, desolate, alone, tattered. They look up at me with empty eyes as if they are pleading me to take them with me. But I cannot take a hundred of these broken children for I am only a broken child myself.
I’ve seen his face one hundred times, and each time an unusual feeling of great joy has come over me. It’s as if he knew my life before and after. It’s as if he somehow called my name as many times as I’ve seen his face. In time, In time, In time is what I keep hearing, In time. what does it all mean, and who is that man that I see in my dreams ?
there are a hundred reasons that i miss you. i thought i had a hundred reasons to leave. looking back i can only see a hundred beautiful memories, a hundred smiles, a hundred kisses, and long for you a hundred times more every day.
She hoped that she would be able to count to a hundred one day. Then, she might be able to understand the enormity of it all and realise that a hundred may have been a million in another universe or nothing at all in a different world.
“One hundred followers. That’s good, sure. But how can you change a nation, with just just 100 people who may not even read what I type out? We need to go big with this. And I need everyone’s help.”
If I could live a hundred thousand years,
For why not add that multiplicity,
I think my love
For the skies above
And the ebbing tide of the ocean sea,
Would only grow, become more dear,
As, contrasting, cynicism would
Increase, itself meeting the skies
As any growing essence should
Before its mortal shell, self oxidized,
Degenerates to none but earth and air
Leaving but a whispered stain,
Else, nothing, to remain.
a hundred is not sixty. it cannot be fit into something sensible. or can it? are we just awkward? If i had a hundrd seconds rather than sixty to write this piece, it may be coherent. Or simply more awkward
Hundred used to be the biggest number to me. I couldn’t imagine having a hundred of anything, or knowing a hundred people. Now I get paid three hundred dollars a month and see a hundred people a week. Strange.
Why, oh why do I feel this way. I’ve been down this path hundreds of time but now it all seems so different. The tree isn’t just a tree, I seem to be seeing it for the first time. It’s so big and tall and wonderful. It leaves me wondering how such things exist outside of an elven world.
A hundred wishes ago, she wished for a candy bar, but now she wishes for tomorrow. She looks at the white walls of the hospital room, and she tries to remember what the outside looks like. She recalls raking leaves with her mother a hundred wishes ago, and jumping in the leaves afterwards. She recalls eating grilled cheese sandwiches cut into tiny triangles. Maybe that’s what the outside looks like, she thinks. Maybe it looks like families being families, and kids being kids.
There were hundreds of them. All chanting and shouting, “Give it up, give it up!” It was all i could to to maintain composure as I walked out onto the balcony. I saw them all.
one hundred men, one hundred men stud that day at the edge of the world and they held their ground for four score and seven months. Blood spilling as blades flew and heads ruling and only they knew the true hardships, felt; on the battle field, where friends saw friends die. Blood filled the minds of men’s nightmares. Hardship and ruin were all they knew as they slaughtered their way through meat.
Faces full of expression, faces empty of emotion fill my gaze. I step, push and jostle just like anyone else. We’re racing toward the exit door in our minds, but remember to keep up that carefree meander as you slip through the crowd, I tell myself. Otherwise people will stare at you, and attracting attention is the last thing you want. Right?
One hundred miles away I saw her.
Saw her smile.
Saw her eyes.
Saw her beauty.
Saw her flaws.
Saw her perfection.
Naked and glowing in the horizon’s sun.
A hundred pairs of eyes stared back at me in the darkness. I squinted, blinded by the spotlight, and felt sweat dripping down my face. My palms wouldn’t stop trembling and my throat caught. I couldn’t find those first few lyrics I’d been singing to myself since I was little. “Uh..” my voice echoed to the back of the club. C’mon, Becca, I thought. Get yourself together.
There were 100 men lined up across the valley. They surveyed the scene: full of corpses, they descended the cliff, ready for death. They found their redemption instead. But it was never what they thought– sometimes guilt is easier to bear that salvation.
We layed the bones out on the sand, side by side, one by one, in the blazing June heat. I shifted my hat and wiped the sweat off try forehead just as Jess ran over to my side. “Hundred of ’em,” she said, out of breath. We stood back and stared.
A hundred times I would say the same thing and it would make no difference. Then I remembered what he told me…”actions speak louder than words” ….so, I shot him!
The huge, whispers of the crowd flowed to the back of my mind as I stood there in the middle of the field, soaking it all in. Specks of red and blue screamed and cheered, waving me down. I touched my heart and grinned even wider, a new kind of feeling washing over me.
One hundred years is as long as it takes sometimes, from infancy to adulthood and then into the hundred year old, bag of bone. Bone bag. See them at one hundred years old, there’s nothing left to fear or be angry for. There’s nothing left to protect yourself from but gray-washed bones wrapped in leather-bound skin, laced together with days and nights. I suppose hell was the needle that wove the day and night.
one million, one hundred dollars makes no difference to me. Money is a gift but I will not let it lead my life., I belong to Christ and he is my savior and he is in control. Just yesterday I was empty and with out money but God provided me a day of joy. I enjoyed a movie and a popcorn.
one hundred days ago iwas living in colorado springs,colorado. and i was so happy when i lived there but now i move and now i am the sadest i have been. and thats because i live in texas now. its how and i miss the coldness and the fresh smell.
When there’s a room of a hundred people, who’s looking at you? who’s even paying attention? no one. so that’s when you sneak over to the refreshments table and spike the godamned punch.
I’m sitting here, watching the loading bar crawl to the right side of the screen.
I can’t think of anything having to do with the word “hundred” right now.
You know why?
I have to pee so bad I could explode.
hundred is a big number that most people think is small. it is a number that change lives. it’s a number that can change the world. sometimes all it takes is one hundred to make a difference in the world.
Once there were hundreds of butterflies. Each carried a unique symbol with a unique color. No two butterflies were the same. One day the butterflies just disappeared.
One hundred thoughts about the word one hundred. 1) such a round neutral number. 2) Everyone uses it as a base, its like the universal scale 3) It really owes a lot of its fame to the number 10 4) Actually, without the “one out front it’s a lot less interesting.
hundred thousand people are leaving today the chinese state because of the tyrannic regime … my friends are waiting for their parents that are gonna arrive in berlin in a few days to start a new, free, life with no constrictions and no fair.
A hundred eyes feast on the sight before us. Our Ruler has just dropped dead in front of us. I turn to look around the murmuring crowd. As I here “Ruler is dead, Ruler is dead.” I spot the man who holds the smoking gun, just as everyone else turns to him. “He killed her.” echoes through the stadium, and everyone’s gaze turns to him. Finally over the shock, the whole crowd cheers and the man is lifted up above our shoulders. I cry out in joy and Ryan kisses me in delight. He picks me up and twirls me around. “She’s dead!”
Hundred. It was the amount of people he had killed. A hundred. methodical. Singular. He set out to be infamous. And according to the papers, the internet, talk. he had done it. Now he’s about to set out for his next hundred.
One hundred days later and he was in my apartment, drinking my coffee and using my computer. I was wearing his sweater and nothing else as I cooked scrambled eggs over the stove and Lana Del Ray played over the radio, her musty voice the soundtrack to my day.
One hundred ducks all in a row.black,white,yellow and gold.Pretty little duckies look at them go.Run duckies run.Go far far away the hunters are coming.Short and fat ones,tall and skinny ones,and mean and ugle ones.
I see them standing there, desolate, alone, tattered. They look up at me with empty eyes as if they are pleading me to take them with me. But I cannot take a hundred of these broken children for I am only a broken child myself.
I’ve seen his face one hundred times, and each time an unusual feeling of great joy has come over me. It’s as if he knew my life before and after. It’s as if he somehow called my name as many times as I’ve seen his face. In time, In time, In time is what I keep hearing, In time. what does it all mean, and who is that man that I see in my dreams ?
there are a hundred reasons that i miss you. i thought i had a hundred reasons to leave. looking back i can only see a hundred beautiful memories, a hundred smiles, a hundred kisses, and long for you a hundred times more every day.
She hoped that she would be able to count to a hundred one day. Then, she might be able to understand the enormity of it all and realise that a hundred may have been a million in another universe or nothing at all in a different world.
“One hundred followers. That’s good, sure. But how can you change a nation, with just just 100 people who may not even read what I type out? We need to go big with this. And I need everyone’s help.”
If I could live a hundred thousand years,
For why not add that multiplicity,
I think my love
For the skies above
And the ebbing tide of the ocean sea,
Would only grow, become more dear,
As, contrasting, cynicism would
Increase, itself meeting the skies
As any growing essence should
Before its mortal shell, self oxidized,
Degenerates to none but earth and air
Leaving but a whispered stain,
Else, nothing, to remain.
i have one hundred things on my mind . I have one hundred problems. i need one hundred answers
a hundred is not sixty. it cannot be fit into something sensible. or can it? are we just awkward? If i had a hundrd seconds rather than sixty to write this piece, it may be coherent. Or simply more awkward
Hundred used to be the biggest number to me. I couldn’t imagine having a hundred of anything, or knowing a hundred people. Now I get paid three hundred dollars a month and see a hundred people a week. Strange.
Why, oh why do I feel this way. I’ve been down this path hundreds of time but now it all seems so different. The tree isn’t just a tree, I seem to be seeing it for the first time. It’s so big and tall and wonderful. It leaves me wondering how such things exist outside of an elven world.
A hundred wishes ago, she wished for a candy bar, but now she wishes for tomorrow. She looks at the white walls of the hospital room, and she tries to remember what the outside looks like. She recalls raking leaves with her mother a hundred wishes ago, and jumping in the leaves afterwards. She recalls eating grilled cheese sandwiches cut into tiny triangles. Maybe that’s what the outside looks like, she thinks. Maybe it looks like families being families, and kids being kids.
There were hundreds of them. All chanting and shouting, “Give it up, give it up!” It was all i could to to maintain composure as I walked out onto the balcony. I saw them all.
one hundred men, one hundred men stud that day at the edge of the world and they held their ground for four score and seven months. Blood spilling as blades flew and heads ruling and only they knew the true hardships, felt; on the battle field, where friends saw friends die. Blood filled the minds of men’s nightmares. Hardship and ruin were all they knew as they slaughtered their way through meat.
Faces full of expression, faces empty of emotion fill my gaze. I step, push and jostle just like anyone else. We’re racing toward the exit door in our minds, but remember to keep up that carefree meander as you slip through the crowd, I tell myself. Otherwise people will stare at you, and attracting attention is the last thing you want. Right?
One hundred miles away I saw her.
Saw her smile.
Saw her eyes.
Saw her beauty.
Saw her flaws.
Saw her perfection.
Naked and glowing in the horizon’s sun.
A hundred pairs of eyes stared back at me in the darkness. I squinted, blinded by the spotlight, and felt sweat dripping down my face. My palms wouldn’t stop trembling and my throat caught. I couldn’t find those first few lyrics I’d been singing to myself since I was little. “Uh..” my voice echoed to the back of the club. C’mon, Becca, I thought. Get yourself together.
hundred stands for perfection.
hundred also stands for frustration
hundred is so because of number one
98. . . 99. . . I looked down. Her eyes were relaxed. Her breathing slow and sweet. Finally she had drifted off.
There were 100 men lined up across the valley. They surveyed the scene: full of corpses, they descended the cliff, ready for death. They found their redemption instead. But it was never what they thought– sometimes guilt is easier to bear that salvation.
its a big number, a hundred years makes a century, id live to live to be 100, it has one 1 and two 0’s, in spanish its cien, its 3 digits
We layed the bones out on the sand, side by side, one by one, in the blazing June heat. I shifted my hat and wiped the sweat off try forehead just as Jess ran over to my side. “Hundred of ’em,” she said, out of breath. We stood back and stared.
A hundred times I would say the same thing and it would make no difference. Then I remembered what he told me…”actions speak louder than words” ….so, I shot him!
The huge, whispers of the crowd flowed to the back of my mind as I stood there in the middle of the field, soaking it all in. Specks of red and blue screamed and cheered, waving me down. I touched my heart and grinned even wider, a new kind of feeling washing over me.
old century 100 time 1912 200 years lots of numbers counting math boring
One hundred years is as long as it takes sometimes, from infancy to adulthood and then into the hundred year old, bag of bone. Bone bag. See them at one hundred years old, there’s nothing left to fear or be angry for. There’s nothing left to protect yourself from but gray-washed bones wrapped in leather-bound skin, laced together with days and nights. I suppose hell was the needle that wove the day and night.
100 years is a long time.
There were at least a hundred of them. Standing. Waiting. They had all the time in the world. I was their victim.
one million, one hundred dollars makes no difference to me. Money is a gift but I will not let it lead my life., I belong to Christ and he is my savior and he is in control. Just yesterday I was empty and with out money but God provided me a day of joy. I enjoyed a movie and a popcorn.
one hundred days ago iwas living in colorado springs,colorado. and i was so happy when i lived there but now i move and now i am the sadest i have been. and thats because i live in texas now. its how and i miss the coldness and the fresh smell.
When there’s a room of a hundred people, who’s looking at you? who’s even paying attention? no one. so that’s when you sneak over to the refreshments table and spike the godamned punch.
I’m sitting here, watching the loading bar crawl to the right side of the screen.
I can’t think of anything having to do with the word “hundred” right now.
You know why?
I have to pee so bad I could explode.
You’re welcome.
hundred is a big number that most people think is small. it is a number that change lives. it’s a number that can change the world. sometimes all it takes is one hundred to make a difference in the world.
The hundred dollar bill I placed under my pillow is gone. What am I going to do? I need that bill to pay my… Oh no here he comes.
Once there were hundreds of butterflies. Each carried a unique symbol with a unique color. No two butterflies were the same. One day the butterflies just disappeared.
One hundred thoughts about the word one hundred. 1) such a round neutral number. 2) Everyone uses it as a base, its like the universal scale 3) It really owes a lot of its fame to the number 10 4) Actually, without the “one out front it’s a lot less interesting.