text_original: I was sure St. John Rivers—pure lived, conscientious, zealous as he was—had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding: he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium—regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly. Meantime a month was gone.
text_transcription: I WAS SURE SANGINE RIVERS PURE LIVED CONSCIENTIOUS ZEALOUS AS HE WAS HAD NOT YET FOUND THAT PEACE OF GOD WHICH PASSETH ALL UNDERSTANDING HE HAD NO MORE FOUND IT I THOUGHT THAN HAD I WITH MY CONCEALED AND RACKING REGRETS FOR MY BROKEN IDOL AND LOST ELYSIUM REGRETS TO WHICH I HAVE LATTERLY AVOIDED REFERRING BUT WHICH POSSESSED ME AND TYRANNIZED OVER ME RUTHLESSLY MEANTIME A MONTH WAS GONE
phonemes: aɪ wʌz ʃˈʊɹ sənt. dʒˈɑːn ɹˈɪvɚz—pjˈʊɹ lˈɪvd, kˌɑːnsɪˈɛnʃəs, zˈɛləs æz hiː wʌz—hæd nˌɑːt jˈɛt fˈaʊnd ðæt pˈiːs ʌv ɡˈɑːd wˌɪtʃ pˈæsəθ ˈɔːl ˌʌndɚstˈændɪŋ: hiː hæd nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ fˈaʊnd ɪt, aɪ θˈɔːt, ðɐn hæd aɪ wɪð maɪ kənsˈiːld ænd ɹˈækɪŋ ɹᵻɡɹˈɛts fɔːɹ maɪ bɹˈoʊkən ˈaɪdəl ænd lˈɔst ɛlˈɪsiəm—ɹᵻɡɹˈɛts tʊ wˌɪtʃ aɪ hæv lˈæɾɚli ɐvˈɔɪdᵻd ɹᵻfˈɜːɹɪŋ, bˌʌt wˌɪtʃ pəzˈɛst mˌiː ænd tˈɪɹɐnˌaɪzd ˌoʊvɚ mˌiː ɹˈuːθləsli. mˈiːntaɪm ɐ mˈʌnθ wʌz ɡˈɔn.