Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5962 | 2020-10-17 00:52:42 | 49.48 | 95% |
| 2575 | 2020-06-12 03:20:00 | 61.40 | 97% |
| 275 | 2020-03-02 15:29:45 | 50.19 | 95% |