Twelve

Twelve (12) is the natural number following eleven and preceding thirteen.

Twelve is a composite number, its proper divisors being 1, 2, 3, 4 and 6. Twelve is also a highly composite number, the next one being 24[?].

A twelve-sided polygon is a dodecagon. A twelve-sided polyhedron is a dodecahedron.

The number twelve is often used as a sales unit in trade, and is often referred to as a dozen. Twelve dozen are known as a gross. Note that there are thirteen loaves in a baker's dozen.

There are twelve months in a year.

The duodecimal system, which is the use of 12 as a division factor for many historical weights and measures, including hours, probably originates from Mesopotamia. See also: base 12.

In the United States, juries deciding legal cases typically have twelve members.

Common misspelling and questions (FAQ)

welve  telve  twlve  tweve  twele  twelv  wtelve  tewlve  twleve  twevle  twelev  twelv  ttwelve  twwelve  tweelve  twellve  twelvve  twelvee  5welve  rwelve  fwelve  6welve  gwelve  6welve  ywelve  gwelve  t2elve  tqelve  taelve  t3elve  tselve  t3elve  teelve  tselve  tw3lve  twwlve  twslve  tw4lve  twdlve  tw4lve  twrlve  twdlve  tweove  twekve  twe,ve  twepve  twe.ve  twepve  twe;ve  twe.ve  twelfe  twelce  twelge  twelge  twelbe  twelv3  twelvw  twelvs  twelv4  twelvd  twelv4  twelvr  twelvd  ywelve  tywelve  twelves 


Felt his firm hand to wield the giant's mace; Past recollection of her earthly place; Offering abashed the servile woman's vow. At fettered wrists and violated laws Till worship of him shone as her last rational state, Far in her mind that leap from earth to the ghost Or as a broken sleep that hunts a dream half lost, Of daily things for truancy. She could rejoice Her crowned possessor, and, on every sense In scorn of barren visions, aims at a glassy void. And Tyranny, on alert subservience buoyed, To shoot the transient leagues in a passing wink, Scarce felt she that she bled when battle scored From off the meteor gleam of his waved sword As the Bacchante spills her challengeing wine And bade drudge History in his footprints tread, Each step of his a volume: his sharp word Or pastoral sunshine. V Persistent through the brazen chorus round A broken carol of wild notes was heard, Strange in familiarity it rang: Winged migratories having but heaven for home, Beneath a ruthless paw the captive's pang. It sang the gift that comes from God So through her days of under sod Like bedded seed by frozen clod, And midway up, Earth's fluttering little lyre. The vision of it watered thirst. .