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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1578 | 2020-07-27 12:22:01 | 68.24 | 95% |
| 538 | 2017-01-19 08:01:29 | 56.32 | 87% |
| 36 | 2017-01-05 07:23:43 | 52.20 | 87% |