There were a hundred days in the year, back then. Yep, one hundred. It was strange, since we one day had 365 and the next didn’t. It seemed our time was shorter, and yet we had more years.
One hundred city cops were suddenly interrupted by six armed individuals, with machine guns and revenge on their mind. Only six cops survived and those six, were cops as well.
one hundred. I think of going to sell weed and making hundreds of dollars and buying hundred grams, then ounces, then lbs of weed. Soon becoming the biggest drug dealer in the world and dealing to hundreds and then becoming the ceo of the biggest drug trade
There are a hundred soldiers at my feet. They are my army and I, their leader. I will lead them to victory and treat them as gods. For they deserve nothing less.
i had lost it.
it meant so much and it was gone now.
i have no idea how it happened, where it went, or how to get it back.
but i will get another like it, and though i will always miss the one i had, i will get another like it.
There are more than one hundred reasons why.
All of them will lead me away from you.
I haven’t the want to keep with the lie
the lie of why I’m always black and blue.
One hundred. One ten tens. One hundred ones. I hated math. Math was surrounded with too many numbers. It’s hard to like math when all the numbers dance around in my head, changing their order. Twenty one becomes twelve before my eyes. What is it called again? It’s not dyslexia, but it’s close. No one seems to understand. Numbers are the enemy.
His arms were wrapped around me, keeping me warm. Under the stars, there we lay looking up into the night sky. We lay there, counting each and every little bright spot we saw. “And one hundred.” He murmured into my hair as he pointed up to the star on the right. There we were, basking in each other’s company. It was pure bliss.
There were hundreds of us, in every direction. We were brown, green filth. People were crying. Screams off in the distance were apart of the normal ambiance. Those men and women in those clean cut suits stared down at us, smiling those reptile-like smiles. They knew they were better than us. In every way.
Somewhere in all our hearts, we knew this to be true. What were we anymore? We were just a number.
There were hundreds of us, in every direction. We were brown, green filth. People were crying. Screams off in the distance were apart of the normal ambiance. Those men and women in those clean cut suits stared down at us, smiling those reptile-like smiles. They knew they were better than us. In every way.
Somewhere in all our hearts, we knew this to be true. What were we anymore? We were just a number.
It was a sad sight, all the trash and discards of the world ending up on the shores of her homeland, Hong Kong. She took in the view with a mix of remore and anger. Why would they let this happen?
Broken nets, processed chip bags, decomposing metal fragments and assortments of other garbage coloured the plastic pellet beach. Seagulls suffering from poor diets stumbled among the trash, nibbling at the unetibles. Death and dying, that’s all this place spoke to her. Death of a healthy world.
There was about a hundred people gathered in the dark room. A hundred sad twisted faces burnt black by the bomb that had exploded in the shops a few hours before. A hundred crying faces.
She only had one hundred words to explain, and nobody would believe what she had to say. It took one hundred minutes to understand the consequences, and one hundred years to live with it. She died in one hundred seconds, and it took one hundred shovels to dig a deep enough grave.
Math. Move the decimal place over twice, a number over 100 will give you a percent, 10 times 10, one hundred shows up too many times to count. But you can count to 100.
His arms were heavy with sleep, heavy with years wrinkling, spotting, drying his skin and bones, heavy with memories pressing in upon him from all sides, memories struggling to burst from inside, to leave; his eyes were heavy with sleep, too; his head drooped beneath many summers, his shoulders hunched against the chill of many winters.
Hundred of Cats, that’s the name of the book my little sister loves when I read to her. She loves cuddling up next to me and pretending to be a kitten as I read to her about the hundreds and thousands and millions of cats all coming to see the old man and woman. I read it to her every night.
One hundred thousand twenty four people. One hundred thousand and twenty four people were knocking at the door. The door was splintering, the walls were crumbling, the floor was caving.
Hundreds of people lined the streets. It was a crowded mass of souls just searching for one answer. They didn’t know what they were there for. But there they were – hundreds of lost people looking for a guiding light. And out of those people, half or so were just standing looking at the ground, thinking “what is the point of it all”
A LOT THATS LIKE 100 ONES wow 100 spots dogs i don’t know how to spell doumations? I should really work on my spelling. Marching 100 band ismeal drama class freaks and geeks wow that’s not related to 1 hundred at all.
There are hundreds upon hundreds of people in the world. Each with one hundred stories or more to tell. And then there are hundreds more stories that could have happened in the world. One hundred different decisions could have created one hundred thousand different possibilities in the universe.
A hundred candles. Who knew so many candles could fit on a cake? A hundred years lived, a hundred years wasted. I spent so much time on earth, yet never ave I accomplished anything of significance.
hundred stacks
thats a rappers fact
as in a matter of fact
2 hundred stacks
fix my silly artifacts
and hundred years ago
still intact
back wack lack fack
How could so many hide? It was impossible, simply impossible. Unless… Had they found the device? Surely not, it was buried under tons of rubble. But… With that thing, hundred, thousands, tens of thousands could have hidden from view, in plain view in fact.
Hundreds of tiny, white butterflies burst out in my advance,
clouding the horizon of the meadow as I tore forward through the brush.
It was my meadow, and theirs, too.
“Oh Belladame Magnifique! if I had a hundred lives I would spend each one of them with you!” he crooned from below. “Knock off it! You just want to get into my pants!” She laughingly yelled from above. “Pants would be nice too,” he smirked lovingly, “but I would take your lips over that any day, any minute, any precious second.” She sighed. “Monsieur, if you had jewels for every time you opened your mouth, their would be a pile of 1 karats at your feet! Now leave me be!” Closing the door behind her, she turned the light off, leaving the hopelessly-in-love gentlemen out on the streets of Paris with nothing but his heart on his shoulder and her words in his ears.
one rooms with one hundred people one looks at me. ? am i gonna have a future with that person? is that person the next person who is gonna help me? who is that person. do i love them? will i love them?
There were a hundred days in the year, back then. Yep, one hundred. It was strange, since we one day had 365 and the next didn’t. It seemed our time was shorter, and yet we had more years.
One hundred city cops were suddenly interrupted by six armed individuals, with machine guns and revenge on their mind. Only six cops survived and those six, were cops as well.
one hundred. I think of going to sell weed and making hundreds of dollars and buying hundred grams, then ounces, then lbs of weed. Soon becoming the biggest drug dealer in the world and dealing to hundreds and then becoming the ceo of the biggest drug trade
leaves of memories and thoughts. a hundred and two little things floating in my brain. feathers of the past. they itch and caress.
There are a hundred soldiers at my feet. They are my army and I, their leader. I will lead them to victory and treat them as gods. For they deserve nothing less.
a hundred years…it seems like a long time…but think about it…all that has happened and all that will happen in the next hundred years…
i had lost it.
it meant so much and it was gone now.
i have no idea how it happened, where it went, or how to get it back.
but i will get another like it, and though i will always miss the one i had, i will get another like it.
There are more than one hundred reasons why.
All of them will lead me away from you.
I haven’t the want to keep with the lie
the lie of why I’m always black and blue.
One hundred. One ten tens. One hundred ones. I hated math. Math was surrounded with too many numbers. It’s hard to like math when all the numbers dance around in my head, changing their order. Twenty one becomes twelve before my eyes. What is it called again? It’s not dyslexia, but it’s close. No one seems to understand. Numbers are the enemy.
One hundred laces to tie
Meals to make
Lessons to learn,
To teach.
Promises to make,
And fulfill.
The job of a mother is difficult,
But…
All that work will be worth it
When my little ones look up at me,
And return my love and devotion
One hundred fold.
His arms were wrapped around me, keeping me warm. Under the stars, there we lay looking up into the night sky. We lay there, counting each and every little bright spot we saw. “And one hundred.” He murmured into my hair as he pointed up to the star on the right. There we were, basking in each other’s company. It was pure bliss.
There were hundreds of us, in every direction. We were brown, green filth. People were crying. Screams off in the distance were apart of the normal ambiance. Those men and women in those clean cut suits stared down at us, smiling those reptile-like smiles. They knew they were better than us. In every way.
Somewhere in all our hearts, we knew this to be true. What were we anymore? We were just a number.
There were hundreds of us, in every direction. We were brown, green filth. People were crying. Screams off in the distance were apart of the normal ambiance. Those men and women in those clean cut suits stared down at us, smiling those reptile-like smiles. They knew they were better than us. In every way.
Somewhere in all our hearts, we knew this to be true. What were we anymore? We were just a number.
It was a sad sight, all the trash and discards of the world ending up on the shores of her homeland, Hong Kong. She took in the view with a mix of remore and anger. Why would they let this happen?
Broken nets, processed chip bags, decomposing metal fragments and assortments of other garbage coloured the plastic pellet beach. Seagulls suffering from poor diets stumbled among the trash, nibbling at the unetibles. Death and dying, that’s all this place spoke to her. Death of a healthy world.
How could it possibly become worse?
i have no clue what it meansss!!! help me im lost i just dont get it! pweaws help me give me context! im screwed yep…gonna die help me hun
A hundred miles. A hundred thousand. Hundreds. The Hundred Acre Wood. A hundred reasons. Hunted. Hungry. Hunger Games. Peeta. Pita. Hummus. Hundreds of hungry hummus hunters.
There was about a hundred people gathered in the dark room. A hundred sad twisted faces burnt black by the bomb that had exploded in the shops a few hours before. A hundred crying faces.
She only had one hundred words to explain, and nobody would believe what she had to say. It took one hundred minutes to understand the consequences, and one hundred years to live with it. She died in one hundred seconds, and it took one hundred shovels to dig a deep enough grave.
Math. Move the decimal place over twice, a number over 100 will give you a percent, 10 times 10, one hundred shows up too many times to count. But you can count to 100.
His arms were heavy with sleep, heavy with years wrinkling, spotting, drying his skin and bones, heavy with memories pressing in upon him from all sides, memories struggling to burst from inside, to leave; his eyes were heavy with sleep, too; his head drooped beneath many summers, his shoulders hunched against the chill of many winters.
A hundred.
Hundred of Cats, that’s the name of the book my little sister loves when I read to her. She loves cuddling up next to me and pretending to be a kitten as I read to her about the hundreds and thousands and millions of cats all coming to see the old man and woman. I read it to her every night.
of pesos
One hundred thousand twenty four people. One hundred thousand and twenty four people were knocking at the door. The door was splintering, the walls were crumbling, the floor was caving.
Hundreds of people lined the streets. It was a crowded mass of souls just searching for one answer. They didn’t know what they were there for. But there they were – hundreds of lost people looking for a guiding light. And out of those people, half or so were just standing looking at the ground, thinking “what is the point of it all”
A LOT THATS LIKE 100 ONES wow 100 spots dogs i don’t know how to spell doumations? I should really work on my spelling. Marching 100 band ismeal drama class freaks and geeks wow that’s not related to 1 hundred at all.
There are hundreds upon hundreds of people in the world. Each with one hundred stories or more to tell. And then there are hundreds more stories that could have happened in the world. One hundred different decisions could have created one hundred thousand different possibilities in the universe.
A hundred candles. Who knew so many candles could fit on a cake? A hundred years lived, a hundred years wasted. I spent so much time on earth, yet never ave I accomplished anything of significance.
hundred stacks
thats a rappers fact
as in a matter of fact
2 hundred stacks
fix my silly artifacts
and hundred years ago
still intact
back wack lack fack
How could so many hide? It was impossible, simply impossible. Unless… Had they found the device? Surely not, it was buried under tons of rubble. But… With that thing, hundred, thousands, tens of thousands could have hidden from view, in plain view in fact.
For
a hundred people singing dancing, yelling together all in bliss. a hundred voices speaking different words but in the end we all sound the same.
hundred seconds. hundred hours. all time wasted when i’m with you. you hurt me a hundred ways.
100 times the force of 100 people that live to be a hundred years old. the consensus is tthat in a hundred mins you
i told you a hundred times to pick up your stinky socks!!!!!!
Hundreds of tiny, white butterflies burst out in my advance,
clouding the horizon of the meadow as I tore forward through the brush.
It was my meadow, and theirs, too.
it is a number it is a very high number can you count to it/
“Oh Belladame Magnifique! if I had a hundred lives I would spend each one of them with you!” he crooned from below. “Knock off it! You just want to get into my pants!” She laughingly yelled from above. “Pants would be nice too,” he smirked lovingly, “but I would take your lips over that any day, any minute, any precious second.” She sighed. “Monsieur, if you had jewels for every time you opened your mouth, their would be a pile of 1 karats at your feet! Now leave me be!” Closing the door behind her, she turned the light off, leaving the hopelessly-in-love gentlemen out on the streets of Paris with nothing but his heart on his shoulder and her words in his ears.
one hundred …………….two words with such meanings….. what are those meanings???? who knows? hmmm……..
One hundred days I’ve been waiting.
But one day.
One rainy day.
That day will be history.
one rooms with one hundred people one looks at me. ? am i gonna have a future with that person? is that person the next person who is gonna help me? who is that person. do i love them? will i love them?