text_original: "Would I mind?" he echoed, looking at her with his careless smile, the smile in which there was often a touch of mockery. "Not I, my love. It wouldn't be half a bad end, to finish one's last ride in a headlong plunge over the cliff  to know none of the gruesome details of dissolution  nothing but a sense of being hurled through bright air, forty fathoms deep into bright water.
text_transcription: WOULD I MIND HE ECHOED LOOKING AT HER WITH HIS CARELESS SMILE THE SMILE IN WHICH THERE WAS OFTEN A TOUCH OF MOCKERY NOT I MY LOVE IT WOULDN'T BE HALF A BAD END TO FINISH ONE'S LAST RIDE IN A HEADLONG PLUNGE OVER THE CLIFF TO KNOW NONE OF THE GRUESOME DETAILS OF DISSOLUTION NOTHING BUT A SENSE OF BEING HURLED THROUGH BRIGHT AIR FORTY FATHOMS DEEP INTO BRIGHT WATER
phonemes: "wʊd aɪ mˈaɪnd?" hiː ˈɛkoʊd, lˈʊkɪŋ æt hɜː wɪð hɪz kˈɛɹləs smˈaɪl, ðə smˈaɪl ɪnwˌɪtʃ ðɛɹwˌʌz ˈɔfən ɐ tˈʌtʃ ʌv mˈɑːkɚɹi. "nˌɑːt ˈaɪ, maɪ lˈʌv. ɪt wˈʊdənt biː hˈæf ɐ bˈæd ˈɛnd, tə fˈɪnɪʃ wˈʌnz lˈæst ɹˈaɪd ɪn ɐ hˈɛdlɔŋ plˈʌndʒ ˌoʊvɚ ðə klˈɪf tə nˈoʊ nˈʌn ʌvðə ɡɹˈuːsʌm diːtˈeɪlz ʌv dˌɪsəlˈuːʃən nˈʌθɪŋ bˌʌt ɐ sˈɛns ʌv bˌiːɪŋ hˈɜːld θɹuː bɹˈaɪt ˈɛɹ, fˈɔːɹɾi fˈæðəmz dˈiːp ˌɪntʊ bɹˈaɪt wˈɔːɾɚ.