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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3982 | 2020-11-03 23:59:38 | 80.00 | 95% |
| 3548 | 2020-06-08 18:26:57 | 90.21 | 97% |
| 2077 | 2020-02-21 16:39:55 | 79.39 | 96% |
| 1000 | 2019-12-26 05:42:41 | 78.33 | 96% |