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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6071 | 2020-11-26 12:44:22 | 78.04 | 96% |
| 5385 | 2020-11-10 14:35:44 | 78.87 | 96% |
| 3441 | 2020-08-31 03:19:57 | 81.38 | 98% |