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typeracer

Pit Stop

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I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, hoping to cease not till death.
Leaves of Grass (book) by Walt Whitman
Language: English
Submitted by: volhosis
This text has been typed more than 1000 times:
Avg. speed: 99 WPM
Avg. accuracy: 97.3%

Top 10 scores for this text

User Speed Accuracy Points Place Date Options
1 joshua728 215 WPM 99.0% 308 1/2 Aug. 24, 2023
2 add4line 209 WPM 99.0% 299 1/3 April 13, 2022
3 quitless 207 WPM 100.0% 296 1/5 Oct. 4, 2023
4 iamtyperacer 203 WPM 100.0% 291 1/4 June 2, 2023
5 shazman 193 WPM 98.0% 277 1/3 Jan. 25, 2024
6 arc_sec 192 WPM 99.0% 276 1/1 March 19, 2021
7 slekap 192 WPM 98.0% 275 1/2 May 11, 2021
8 ibexus 189 WPM 99.0% 271 1/3 March 19, 2024
9 flaneur 187 WPM 99.0% 268 1/2 March 25, 2023
10 xeogran 186 WPM 99.0% 267 1/2 June 26, 2023