text_original: "What's the matter, my dear?" I asked, almost losing my mind at this, after all her other wonders. "Dirt," she replied; "degustin' dirt!" never stopping to look up at me. "What odds for a little dirt, when a little soul is hungry?"
text_transcription: WHAT'S THE MATTER MY DEAR I ASKED ALMOST LOSING MY MIND AT THIS AFTER ALL HER OTHER WONDERS DIRT SHE REPLIED DE GUST AND DIRT NEVER STOPPING TO LOOK UP AT ME WHAT ODDS FOR A LITTLE DIRT WHEN A LITTLE SOUL IS HUNGRY
phonemes: "wˌʌts ðə mˈæɾɚ, maɪ dˈɪɹ?" aɪ ˈæskt, ˈɔːlmoʊst lˈuːzɪŋ maɪ mˈaɪnd æt ðˈɪs, ˈæftɚɹ ˈɔːl hɜːɹ ˈʌðɚ wˈʌndɚz. "dˈɜːt," ʃiː ɹᵻplˈaɪd; "dᵻɡˈʌstɪn dˈɜːt!" nˈɛvɚ stˈɑːpɪŋ tə lˈʊk ˈʌp æt mˌiː. "wˌʌt ˈɑːdz fɚɹə lˈɪɾəl dˈɜːt, wˌɛn ɐ lˈɪɾəl sˈoʊl ɪz hˈʌŋɡɹi?"