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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5274 | 2020-05-25 15:34:51 | 81.17 | 97% |
| 4517 | 2019-09-01 13:14:49 | 83.87 | 97% |
| 2333 | 2019-01-04 12:55:32 | 79.69 | 98% |
| 1033 | 2018-10-17 15:39:25 | 79.60 | 97% |
| 425 | 2018-10-02 23:52:26 | 76.89 | 97% |