text_original: Look, there isn't a black or a brown one, or even a grey one, within sight. They are just like a thin mist, lighted by a million of electric lamps. It's a delicious world, and if it isn't inhabited by angels it ought to be."
text_transcription: LOOK THERE ISN'T A BLACK OR A BROWN ONE OR EVEN A GRAY ONE WITHIN SIGHT THEY ARE JUST LIKE A THIN MIST LIGHTED BY A MILLION OF ELECTRIC LAMPS IT'S A DELICIOUS WORLD AND IF IT ISN'T INHABITED BY ANGELS IT OUGHT TO BE
phonemes: lˈʊk, ðɛɹ ˌɪzənt ɐ blˈæk ɔːɹ ɐ bɹˈaʊn wˌʌn, ɔːɹ ˈiːvən ɐ ɡɹˈeɪ wˌʌn, wɪðˌɪn sˈaɪt. ðeɪ ɑːɹ dʒˈʌst lˈaɪk ɐ θˈɪn mˈɪst, lˈaɪɾᵻd baɪ ɐ mˈɪliən ʌv ᵻlˈɛktɹɪk lˈæmps. ɪts ɐ dᵻlˈɪʃəs wˈɜːld, ænd ɪf ɪɾ ˌɪzənt ɪnhˈæbɪɾᵻd baɪ ˈeɪndʒəlz ɪɾ ˈɔːt tə bˈiː."