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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7748 | 2017-02-18 18:17:02 | 84.70 | 91% |
| 6918 | 2016-12-14 21:17:37 | 86.01 | 95% |
| 6806 | 2016-12-13 15:52:52 | 88.32 | 95% |
| 6528 | 2016-12-08 17:58:11 | 92.50 | 97% |
| 6406 | 2016-12-02 23:32:26 | 88.15 | 95% |