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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2182 | 2017-03-19 22:06:54 | 60.04 | 94% |
| 2040 | 2017-03-07 02:41:20 | 67.49 | 95% |
| 2028 | 2017-03-07 01:49:44 | 60.71 | 93% |