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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2559 | 2019-02-05 07:24:33 | 80.36 | 96% |
| 969 | 2017-12-06 15:21:26 | 70.97 | 95% |
| 851 | 2017-11-29 15:49:42 | 100.52 | 99% |
| 427 | 2017-11-13 19:27:38 | 80.35 | 98% |