text_original: And all that had been to her like prison out there, and all that she had loved, stole up on the breath of the unaired morning, and kept beating in her face, fluttering at the white linen above her heart like the wings of birds flying.
text_transcription: AND ALL THAT HAD BEEN TO HER LIKE PRISON OUT THERE AND ALL THAT SHE HAD LOVED STOLE UP ON THE BREATH OF THE UNAIRED MORNING AND KEPT BEATING IN HER FACE FLUTTERING AT THE WHITE LINEN ABOVE HER HEART LIKE THE WINGS OF BIRDS FLYING
phonemes: ænd ˈɔːl ðæt hɐdbɪn tə hɜː lˈaɪk pɹˈɪzən ˈaʊt ðˈɛɹ, ænd ˈɔːl ðæt ʃiː hæd lˈʌvd, stˈoʊl ˌʌp ɔnðə bɹˈɛθ ʌvðɪ ʌnˈɛɹd mˈɔːɹnɪŋ, ænd kˈɛpt bˈiːɾɪŋ ɪn hɜː fˈeɪs, flˈʌɾɚɹɪŋ æt ðə wˈaɪt lˈɪnɪn əbˌʌv hɜː hˈɑːɹt lˈaɪk ðə wˈɪŋz ʌv bˈɜːdz flˈaɪɪŋ.