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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 19126 | 2017-08-20 15:12:23 | 74.26 | 98% |
| 18712 | 2017-08-14 15:38:18 | 75.03 | 97% |
| 18478 | 2017-08-12 08:11:36 | 68.24 | 97% |
| 12158 | 2017-04-12 02:24:52 | 68.04 | 94% |
| 12043 | 2017-04-10 16:19:02 | 63.07 | 93% |
| 10551 | 2017-03-22 15:37:33 | 70.98 | 93% |
| 10044 | 2017-03-12 16:13:53 | 64.58 | 94% |
| 7977 | 2017-01-25 16:16:17 | 65.59 | 93% |
| 6442 | 2016-11-12 13:27:36 | 59.80 | 93% |