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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1855 | 2019-07-15 20:02:02 | 77.42 | 96% |
| 774 | 2017-01-17 22:45:14 | 68.90 | 91% |
| 572 | 2016-12-28 18:02:07 | 83.69 | 95% |