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 |
---|---|---|---|
5419 | 2017-12-06 22:38:25 | 92.35 | 95% |
304 | 2017-05-07 19:27:47 | 75.47 | 85% |