text_original: If only I might go on trembling, as I was, with the rapture of all I did not know and could not see, yet felt pressing against me and touching my face with its lips! To think of her at anchor in cold light was like flinging to a door in the face of happiness.
text_transcription: IF ONLY I MIGHT GO ON TREMBLING AS I WAS WITH THE RAPTURE OF ALL I DID NOT KNOW AND COULD NOT SEE YET FELT PRESSING AGAINST ME AND TOUCHING MY FACE WITH ITS LIPS TO THINK OF HER AT ANCHOR IN COLD LIGHT WAS LIKE FLINGING TO A DOOR IN THE FACE OF HAPPINESS
phonemes: ɪf ˈoʊnli aɪ mˌaɪt ɡˌoʊ ˌɔn tɹˈɛmblɪŋ, æz aɪ wʌz, wɪððə ɹˈæptʃɚɹ ʌv ˈɔːl aɪ dɪdnˌɑːt nˈoʊ ænd kʊd nˌɑːt sˈiː, jˈɛt fˈɛlt pɹˈɛsɪŋ ɐɡˈɛnst mˌiː ænd tˈʌtʃɪŋ maɪ fˈeɪs wɪð ɪts lˈɪps! tə θˈɪŋk ʌv hɜːɹ æɾ ˈæŋkɚɹ ɪn kˈoʊld lˈaɪt wʌz lˈaɪk flˈɪŋɪŋ tʊ ɐ dˈɔːɹ ɪnðə fˈeɪs ʌv hˈæpɪnəs.