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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11031 | 2020-10-17 20:56:02 | 90.90 | 97% |
| 10382 | 2020-10-10 15:27:57 | 93.30 | 98% |
| 9522 | 2020-09-28 14:54:51 | 71.44 | 96% |
| 6457 | 2020-08-10 22:03:37 | 85.52 | 97% |
| 5513 | 2020-06-26 19:42:48 | 83.82 | 98% |