text_original: ISTo other memory of life is more sacred than that of the candor with which they took me into their confidence, as if I had been of their own sex, yet ever sought to avoid wounding the delicacy they ascribed to mine.
text_transcription: NO OTHER MEMORY OF LIFE IS MORE SACRED THAN THAT OF THE CANDOUR WITH WHICH THEY TOOK ME INTO THEIR CONFIDENCE AS IF I HAD BEEN ONE OF THEIR OWN SEX YET EVER SOUGHT TO AVOID WOUNDING THE DELICACY THEY ASCRIBED TO MINE
phonemes: ˈɪstoʊ ˈʌðɚ mˈɛmɚɹi ʌv lˈaɪf ɪz mˈɔːɹ sˈeɪkɹɪd ðɐn ðæt ʌvðə kˈændɔːɹ wɪð wˌɪtʃ ðeɪ tˈʊk mˌiː ˌɪntʊ ðɛɹ kˈɑːnfɪdəns, æz ɪf aɪ hɐdbɪn ʌv ðɛɹ ˈoʊn sˈɛks, jˈɛt ˈɛvɚ sˈɔːt tʊ ɐvˈɔɪd wˈuːndɪŋ ðə dˈɛlɪkəsi ðeɪ ɐskɹˈaɪbd tə mˈaɪn.