text_original: One day, leaning on his sledge, Neale's torturing self, morbid, inquisitive, growing by what it fed on, whispered another question to his memory. "What were some of the last words she spoke to me?" And there, limned white on the dark background of his mind, the answer appeared, "NEALE, _I_ FORGIVE YOU!" He recalled her face, the tragic eyes, the outstretched arms. "Forgive me! For what?"
text_transcription: ONE DAY LEANING ON HIS SLEDGE NEIL TORTURING SELF MORBID INQUISITIVE GROWING BY WHAT IT FARED ON WHISPERED ANOTHER QUESTION TO HIS MEMORY WHAT WERE SOME OF THE LAST WORDS SHE SPOKE TO ME AND THERE LIMNED IT WHITE ON THE DARK BACKGROUND OF HIS MIND THE ANSWER APPEARED NEIL I FORGIVE YOU HE RECALLED HER FACE THE TRAGIC EYES THE OUTSTRETCHED ARMS FORGIVE ME FOR WHAT
phonemes: wˈʌn dˈeɪ, lˈiːnɪŋ ˌɔn hɪz slˈɛdʒ, nˈiːlz tˈɔːɹtʃɚɹɪŋ sˈɛlf, mˈɔːɹbɪd, ɪŋkwˈɪzᵻtˌɪv, ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ baɪ wʌt ɪt fˈɛd ˈɔn, wˈɪspɚd ɐnˈʌðɚ kwˈɛstʃən tə hɪz mˈɛmɚɹi. "wˌʌt wɜː sˌʌm ʌvðə lˈæst wˈɜːdz ʃiː spˈoʊk tə mˌiː?" ænd ðˈɛɹ, lˈɪmd wˈaɪt ɔnðə dˈɑːɹk bˈækɡɹaʊnd ʌv hɪz mˈaɪnd, ðɪ ˈænsɚɹ ɐpˈɪɹd, "nˈiːl, aɪ fɚɡˈɪv juː!" hiː ɹᵻkˈɔːld hɜː fˈeɪs, ðə tɹˈædʒɪk ˈaɪz, ðɪ aʊtstɹˈɛtʃt ˈɑːɹmz. "fɚɡˈɪv mˌiː! fɔːɹ wˈʌt?"