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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14992 | 2020-11-17 02:27:55 | 107.64 | 98% |
| 1671 | 2017-03-17 21:40:51 | 95.36 | 95% |
| 459 | 2016-12-19 08:12:10 | 92.17 | 96% |