For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 383177 | 2024-09-25 17:01:45 | 146.98 | 98.8% |
| 383176 | 2024-09-25 17:01:12 | 129.26 | 98.1% |
| 383175 | 2024-09-25 17:00:00 | 127.70 | 98.1% |
| 383174 | 2024-09-25 16:58:56 | 129.02 | 97.7% |
| 359426 | 2024-06-06 03:42:43 | 116.56 | 97.8% |
| 359425 | 2024-06-06 03:42:00 | 116.74 | 97.7% |
| 359424 | 2024-06-06 03:41:19 | 113.80 | 96.3% |
| 359423 | 2024-06-06 03:40:37 | 132.95 | 98.5% |
| 359422 | 2024-06-06 03:39:57 | 105.50 | 96.2% |
| 328640 | 2024-02-17 03:09:36 | 133.87 | 99% |