text_original: One afternoon I became unable to think, but a white mist settled down over hell. Even those contemptible devils were having their tongues cooled with blessed drops of water. The fires grew dim, and it seemed as if there was to be a rain of grace and mercy in that region of despair.
text_transcription: ONE AFTERNOON I BECAME UNABLE TO THINK BUT A WHITE MIST SETTLED DOWN OVER HELL EVEN THOSE CONTEMPTIBLE DEVILS WERE HAVING THEIR TONGUES COOLED WITH BLESSED DROPS OF WATER THE FIRES GREW DIM AND IT SEEMED AS IF THERE WAS TO BE A RAIN OF GRACE AND MERCY IN THAT REGION OF DESPAIR
phonemes: wˈʌn ˌæftɚnˈuːn aɪ bɪkˌeɪm ʌnˈeɪbəl tə θˈɪŋk, bˌʌt ɐ wˈaɪt mˈɪst sˈɛɾəld dˌaʊn ˌoʊvɚ hˈɛl. ˈiːvən ðoʊz kəntˈɛmptᵻbəl dˈɛvəlz wɜː hˌævɪŋ ðɛɹ tˈʌŋz kˈuːld wɪð blˈɛst dɹˈɑːps ʌv wˈɔːɾɚ. ðə fˈaɪɚz ɡɹˈuː dˈɪm, ænd ɪt sˈiːmd æz ɪf ðɛɹwˌʌz təbi ɐ ɹˈeɪn ʌv ɡɹˈeɪs ænd mˈɜːsi ɪn ðæt ɹˈiːdʒən ʌv dᵻspˈɛɹ.