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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8405 | 2020-06-16 19:53:41 | 83.13 | 96% |
| 4952 | 2020-04-09 01:43:16 | 76.67 | 96% |
| 2821 | 2020-03-19 18:38:03 | 75.31 | 96% |
| 2294 | 2020-03-17 02:15:50 | 81.04 | 98% |
| 381 | 2020-02-02 19:17:43 | 65.70 | 97% |