text_original: "Pardon me," she said, holding up her book with one hand, and tapping it indicatively with the other: "Shakespeare carries me out of myself. A spark of the poet's fire burns in the poet's humble servant. May I hope that I have made myself understood? You look as if you had a fellow feeling for me."
text_transcription: PARDON ME SHE SAID HOLDING UP HER BOOK WITH ONE HAND AND TAPPING IT INDICATIVELY WITH THE OTHER SHAKESPEARE CARRIES ME OUT OF MYSELF A SPARK OF THE POET'S FIRE BURNS IN THE POET'S HUMBLE SERVANT MAY I HOPE THAT I'VE MADE MYSELF UNDERSTOOD YOU LOOK AS IF YOU HAD A FELLOW FEELING FOR ME
phonemes: "pˈɑːɹdən mˌiː," ʃiː sˈɛd, hˈoʊldɪŋ ˌʌp hɜː bˈʊk wɪð wˈʌn hˈænd, ænd tˈæpɪŋ ɪɾ ɪndˈɪkətˌɪvli wɪððɪ ˈʌðɚ: "ʃˈeɪkspɪɹ kˈæɹiz mˌiː ˌaʊɾəv maɪsˈɛlf. ɐ spˈɑːɹk ʌvðə pˈoʊɪts fˈaɪɚ bˈɜːnz ɪnðə pˈoʊɪts hˈʌmbəl sˈɜːvənt. mˈeɪ aɪ hˈoʊp ðæt aɪ hæv mˌeɪd maɪsˈɛlf ˌʌndɚstˈʊd? juː lˈʊk æz ɪf juː hæd ɐ fˈɛloʊ fˈiːlɪŋ fɔːɹ mˌiː."