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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 19965 | 2020-11-18 12:39:10 | 76.77 | 97% |
| 19757 | 2020-11-16 13:04:37 | 91.23 | 98% |
| 5809 | 2020-01-17 03:17:09 | 65.60 | 97% |
| 372 | 2019-09-25 08:56:17 | 64.49 | 97% |