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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 28218 | 2017-10-11 23:42:37 | 109.75 | 96% |
| 27935 | 2017-10-10 18:53:20 | 121.13 | 98% |
| 1400 | 2017-09-01 13:35:42 | 119.06 | 97% |
| 448 | 2017-09-01 01:39:07 | 106.89 | 98% |