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You've never asked me what it is.

juv ˈnɛvər ˈæskt mi wɑt ɪt ɪz.

Is it because you've suspected?"

ɪz ɪt bɪˈkʌz juv səˈspɛktɪd

"Suspected what?

səˈspɛktɪd wɑt

As a rule I don't think I suspect," said Isabel.

əz ə rul aɪ doʊnt θɪŋk aɪ səsˈpɛkt ˌsɛd ˈɪzəbəl

"I remember now that phrase in your letter, but I confess I had forgotten it.

aɪ rɪˈmɛmbər naʊ ðæt freɪz ɪn jɔr ˈlɛtər, bət aɪ kənˈfɛs aɪ hæd fərˈɡɑtn̩ ɪt.

What have you to tell me?"

wɑt hæv ju tə tɛl mi"

Henrietta looked disappointed, and her steady gaze betrayed it. "You don't ask that right-as if you thought it important.

hɛnriˈɛtə lʊkt dɪsəˈpɔɪntɪd, ænd hər ˈstɛdi ɡeɪz bɪˈtreɪɪd ɪt. "ju dəʊnt ˈæsk ðæt raɪt-æz ɪf ju θɔt ɪt ɪmˈpɔrtənt.

"Tell me what you mean, and I'll think of that."

tɛl mi wɑt ju min, ænd aɪl θɪŋk ʌv ðæt.

"Will you really think of it?

wɪl ju ˈrɪəli θɪŋk ʌv ɪt?

That's what I wish to be sure of."

ðæts wɑt aɪ wɪʃ tu bi ʃʊr ʌv.

"I've not much control of my thoughts, but I'll do my best," said Isabel.

aɪv nɑt mʌʧ kənˈtroʊl əv maɪ θɔts, bət aɪl duː maɪ bɛst, sɛd ˈɪzəˌbɛl

Henrietta gazed at her, in silence, for a period which tried Isabel's patience, so that our heroine added at last: "Do you mean that you're going to be married?"

hɛnriˈɛtə ɡeɪzd æt hər, ɪn ˈsaɪləns, fɔr ə ˈpɪriəd wɪʧ traɪd ɪzəˈbɛlz ˈpeɪʃəns, so ðæt aʊr ˈhɛroʊɪn ˈædəd æt lɑst: "du jə min ðæt jʊər ɡoʊɪŋ tu bi ˈmærɪd?"

"Not till I've seen Europe!" said Miss Stackpole.

"nɑt tɪl aɪv sin ˈjʊrəp!" sɛd mɪs ˈstækpoʊl.

"What I mean is that mr Goodwood came out in the steamer with me."

"wɑt aɪ miːn ɪz ðæt mɪs.tər ˈɡʊd.wʊd keɪm aʊt ɪn ðə ˈstiː.mər wɪð miː."

"Ah!" Isabel responded.

"ɑː! ˈɪzəˌbɛl rɪˈspɑndɪd."

"You say that right.

ju səe ðæt raɪt.

I had a good deal of talk with him; he has come after you."

aɪ hæd ə ɡʊd dil əv tɔk wɪð hɪm; hi hæz kʌm ˈæftər ju."

"Did he tell you so?"

dɪd hi tɛl ju so?

"No, he told me nothing; that's how I knew it," said Henrietta cleverly. "He said very little about you, but I spoke of you a good deal."

"noʊ, hi təʊld mi ˈnʌθɪŋ; ðæts haʊ aɪ nju ɪt," sɛd hɛnˈriɛtə ˈklɛvərli. "hi sɛd ˈvɛri ˈlɪtəl əˈbaʊt ju, bət aɪ spoʊk əv ju ə ɡʊd dil."

Isabel waited.

ɪzəˈbɛl ˈweɪtɪd

At the mention of mr Goodwood's name she had turned a little pale.

æt ðə ˈmɛnʃən əv mɪs.tər ˈɡʊd.wʊdz neɪm ʃi hæd tɜrnd ə ˈlɪtəl peɪl.

"I'm very sorry you did that," she observed at last.

aɪm ˈvɛri ˈsɔri ju dɪd ðæt ʃiː əbˈzɜrvd æt lɑːst.

I could have talked a long time to such a listener; he was so quiet, so intense; he drank it all in."

aɪ kʊd hæv tɔkt ə lɔŋ taɪm tu sʌʧ ə ˈlɪsənər; hi wəz soʊ ˈkwaɪ.ət, soʊ ɪnˈtɛns; hi dræŋk ɪt ɔl ɪn.

I see his face now, and his earnest absorbed look while I talked.

aɪ ˈsi hɪz feɪs naʊ, ænd hɪz ˈɜrnɪst əbˈsɔrbd lʊk ˈwaɪl aɪ tɔkt.

I never saw an ugly man look so handsome."

aɪ ˈnɛvər sɔ ən ˈʌɡli ˈmæn lʊk soʊ ˈhænsəm.

"It's not a grand passion; I'm very sure it's not that."

ɪts nɑt ə ɡrænd ˈpæʃən, aɪm ˈvɛri ʃʊr ɪts nɑt ðæt.

Isabel offered no answer to this assertion, which her companion made with an air of great confidence.

ˈɪzəbəl ˈɔfərd noʊ ˈænsər tu ðɪs əˈsɜrʃən, wɪʧ hər kəmˈpænjən ˈmeɪd wɪð ən ˈɛr əv ˈɡreɪt ˈkɑnfədəns.

"He'll find you changed," the latter pursued.

"hiːl faɪnd juː tʃeɪnʤd" ðə ˈlætər pərˈsud

I'm affected by everything."

aɪm əˈfɛktɪd baɪ ˈɛvrɪθɪŋ.

Isabel failed even to smile back and in a moment she said: "Did he ask you to speak to me?"

ɪzəˈbɛl feɪld ˈivən tuː smaɪl bæk ænd ɪn ə ˈmoʊmənt ʃiː sɛd: "dɪd hiː æsk juː tuː spiːk tuː miː?"

But his eyes asked it-and his handshake, when he bade me good bye."

bʌt hɪz aɪz æskt ɪt-ænd hɪz ˈhændˌʃeɪk, wɛn hi bæd mi ɡʊd baɪ.

"Thank you for doing so." And Isabel turned away.

ˈθæŋk jʊ fɔr ˈduɪŋ soʊ. ənd ˈɪzəbəl tɜrnd əˈweɪ.

"Yes, you're changed; you've got new ideas over here," her friend continued.

"jɛs, jʊr tʃeɪnʤd, jʊv gɑt nuː aɪˈdiəz ˈoʊvər hɪr," hər frɛnd kənˈtinjud.

"I hope so," said Isabel; "one should get as many new ideas as possible."

aɪ hoʊp soʊ, sɛd ˈɪzəbɛl; wʌn ʃʊd ɡɛt æz ˈmɛni nuː aɪˈdiəz æz ˈpɑsəbəl.

"Yes; but they shouldn't interfere with the old ones when the old ones have been the right ones."

ˈjɛs; bət ðeɪ ˈʃʊdnt ˌɪntərˈfɪr wɪð ðə oʊld wʌnz wɛn ðə oʊld wʌnz hæv bɪn ðə raɪt wʌnz.

Isabel turned about again.

ɪzəˈbɛl tɜrnd əˈbaʊt əˈɡɛn

"If you mean that I had any idea with regard to mr Goodwood-!" But she faltered before her friend's implacable glitter.

ɪf juː miːn ðæt aɪ hæd ˈɛniː aɪˈdiːə wɪθ rɪˈɡɑrd tuː mɪsˈtər ˈɡʊdwʊd, bʌt ʃiː ˈfɔːltərd bɪˈfɔːr hər frendz ɪmˈplækəbəl ˈɡlɪtər

"My dear child, you certainly encouraged him."

mɑɪ dɪər ʧaɪld, ju ˈsɝtənli ɪnˈkɝʤd ˈhɪm.

Isabel made for the moment as if to deny this charge; instead of which, however, she presently answered: "It's very true.

ɪzəˈbɛl ˈmeɪd fɔr ðə ˈmoʊmənt æz ɪf tu dɪˈnaɪ ðɪs ʧɑrdʒ; ɪnˈstɛd əv wɪʧ, ˌhaʊˈɛvər, ʃi ˈprɛzəntli ˈænsərd: "ɪts ˈvɛri ˈtru".

I did encourage him." And then she asked if her companion had learned from mr Goodwood what he intended to do.

aɪ dɪd ɪnˈkɜrɪʤ ˈhɪm. ænd ðɛn ʃi ˈæskt ɪf hɜr kəmˈpænjən hæd lɜrnd frɒm mɪs.tər ˈɡʊd.wʊd wɒt hi ɪnˈtɛndɪd tu dʊ.

"I asked him, and he said he meant to do nothing," Miss Stackpole answered.

aɪ ˈæskt ˈhɪm, ænd hi sɛd hi mɛnt tu dʊ ˈnʌθɪŋ, mɪs ˈstækˌpoʊl ˈænsɝd.

"But I don't believe that; he's not a man to do nothing.

bʌt aɪ doʊnt bɪˈliv ðæt; ˈhiz nɑt ə ˈmæn tə du ˈnʌθɪŋ.

He is a man of high, bold action.

hi ɪz ə mæn əv haɪ, boʊld ˈækʃən.

"I quite believe that." Henrietta might be wanting in delicacy, but it touched the girl, all the same, to hear this declaration.

aɪ kwaɪt bɪˈliːv ðæt hɛnˈriːɛtə maɪt bi ˈwɑntɪŋ ɪn ˈdɛlɪkəsi, bət ɪt tʌʧt ðə ɡɜrl, ɔl ðə seɪm, tə hɪr ðɪs ˌdɛkləˈreɪʃən.

"Ah, you do care for him!" her visitor rang out.

ə, ju du ˈkɛɹ fɔɹ ˈhɪm, hɝ ˈvɪzɪtɚ ræŋ aʊt.

"Whatever he does will always be right," Isabel repeated.

"wɑˈtɛvər hi dʌz wɪl ˈɔlˌweɪz bi raɪt," ɪzəˈbɛl rɪˈpitəd.

"When a man's of that infallible mould what does it matter to him what one feels?"

wɛn ə mænz əv ðæt ɪnˈfæləbəl moʊld wʌt ˈdʌz ɪt ˈmætər tu ɪm wʌt wʌn filz

"It may not matter to him, but it matters to one's self."

ɪt meɪ nɑt ˈmætər tu hɪm, bət ɪt ˈmætərz tu wʌnz sɛlf.

"Ah, what it matters to me-that's not what we're discussing," said Isabel with a cold smile.

ə, wʌt ɪt ˈmætərz tu mi-ðæts nɑt wɑt wər dɪsˈkʌsɪŋ, sɛd ˈɪzəbəl wɪθ ə koʊld smaɪl.

This time her companion was grave.

ðɪs taɪm hər kəmˈpænjən wəz ɡreɪv

"Well, I don't care; you have changed.

wɛl, aɪ doʊnt kɛɹ; ju hæv tʃeɪnʤd.

You're not the girl you were a few short weeks ago, and mr Goodwood will see it.

juɹ nɑt ðə ɡɝl ju ˈwəɹ ə fju ʃɔɹt wiks əˈɡoʊ, ænd mɪstɝ ˈɡʊdwʊd wɪl si ɪt.

I expect him here any day."

aɪ ɪkˈspɛkt ˈhɪm hɪr ˈɛni ˈdeɪ.

"I hope he'll hate me then," said Isabel.

aɪ hoʊp hiːl heɪt miː ðɛn, sɛd ˈɪzəˌbɛl.

"I believe you hope it about as much as I believe him capable of it."

aɪ bɪˈliːv juː hoʊp ɪt əˈbaʊt əz ˈmʌʧ əz aɪ bɪˈliːv hɪm ˈkeɪpəbəl ʌv ɪt.

The feeling pressed upon her; it made the air sultry, as if there were to be a change of weather; and the weather, socially speaking, had been so agreeable during Isabel's stay at Gardencourt that any change would be for the worse.

ðə ˈfiːlɪŋ prɛst əˈpɒn hɜː; ɪt meɪd ðə ɛə sʌltri, əz ɪf ðɛr wɜː tə biː ə ʧeɪndʒ əv ˈwɛðə; ənd ðə ˈwɛðə, ˈsəʊʃəli ˈspiːkɪŋ, hæd bɪn səʊ əˈgriːəbl djʊərɪŋ ˈɪzəbəlz steɪ ət ˈgɑːdənˌkɔːt ðæt ˈɛni ʧeɪndʒ wʊd biː fə ðə wɜːs.

Her suspense indeed was dissipated the second day.

hɜr səˈspɛns ɪnˈdɪd wəz ˈdɪsəˌpeɪtɪd ðə ˈsɛkənd ˈdeɪ

She entertained herself for some moments with talking to the little terrier, as to whom the proposal of an ownership divided with her cousin had been applied as impartially as possible-as impartially as Bunchie's own somewhat fickle and inconstant sympathies would allow.

ʃi ɛntərˈteɪnd hɜrˈsɛlf fɔr səm ˈmoʊmənts wɪð ˈtɔkɪŋ tə ðə ˈlɪtəl ˈtɛriər, əz tə huːm ðə prəˈpoʊzəl əv ən ˈoʊnərˌʃɪp dɪˈvaɪdəd wɪð hɜr ˈkʌzən hæd bɪn əˈplaɪd əz ɪmˈpɑrʃəli əz ˈpɑsəbəl-əz ɪmˈpɑrʃəli əz ˈbʌntʃiz ˈoʊn ˈsəmˌwʌt ˈfɪkəl ənd ɪnˈkɑnstənt ˈsɪmpəθiz wʊd əˈlaʊ.

But she was notified for the first time, on this occasion, of the finite character of Bunchie's intellect; hitherto she had been mainly struck with its extent.

bʌt ʃi wəz ˈnoʊtəˌfaɪd fɔr ðə fɝst taɪm, ɑn ðɪs əˈkesən, əv ðə ˈfaɪnaɪt ˈkærəktər əv ˈbʌntʃiz ˈɪntəlɛkt; ˈhɪðərˌtu ʃi hæd bɪn ˈmeɪnli strʌk wɪð ɪts ɪkˈstɛnt.

It seemed to her at last that she would do well to take a book; formerly, when heavy hearted, she had been able, with the help of some well chosen volume, to transfer the seat of consciousness to the organ of pure reason.

ɪt siːmd tu hər æt lɑːst ðæt ʃiː wʊd duː wɛl tu teɪk ə bʊk; ˈfɔːrməli, wɛn ˈhɛvi ˈhɑːrtɪd, ʃiː hæd bɪn ˈeɪbəl, wɪð ðə hɛlp əv sʌm wɛl ˈʧoʊzn ˈvɑːljum, tu trænsˈfɜr ðə sit əv ˈkɑːnʃəsnəs tu ðə ˈɔrɡən əv pjʊr ˈriːzən.

Of late, it was not to be denied, literature had seemed a fading light, and even after she had reminded herself that her uncle's library was provided with a complete set of those authors which no gentleman's collection should be without, she sat motionless and empty handed, her eyes bent on the cool green turf of the lawn.

əv leɪt, ɪt wəz nɑt tə bi dɪˈnaɪd, ˈlɪtərəʧər həd sɛmd ə ˈfeɪdɪŋ laɪt, ənd ˈivən ˈæftər ʃi həd rɪˈmaɪndɪd hərˈsɛlf ðæt hər ˈʌŋkəlz ˈlaɪˌbrɛri wəz prəˈvaɪdəd wɪð ə kəmˈplit sɛt əv ðoʊz ˈɔθərz wɪtʃ noʊ ˈʤɛntəlmənz kəˈlɛkʃən ʃʊd bi wɪˈðaʊt, ʃi sæt ˈmoʊʃənləs ənd ˈɛmpi ˈhændɪd, hər aɪz bɛnt ɑn ðə kul ˈgrin tɜrf əv ðə lɔn.

Her meditations were presently interrupted by the arrival of a servant who handed her a letter.

hər ˌmɛdɪˈteɪʃənz wɜr ˈprɛzntli ˌɪntəˈrʌptɪd baɪ ðə əˈraɪvəl əv ə ˈsɜrvənt hu ˈhændɪd hər ə ˈlɛtər.

The letter bore the London postmark and was addressed in a hand she knew-that came into her vision, already so held by him, with the vividness of the writer's voice or his face.

ðə ˈlɛtər bɔr ðə ˈlʌndən ˈpəʊstmɑːk ænd wəz əˈdrɛst ɪn ə hænd ʃiː njuː-ðæt keɪm ˈɪntuː hər ˈvɪʒən, ɔˈlɹɛdi soʊ hɛld baɪ hɪm, wɪð ðə ˈvɪvɪdnəs ʌv ðə ˈraɪtərz vɔɪs ɔːr hɪz feɪs."

MY DEAR MISS ARCHER-I don't know whether you will have heard of my coming to England, but even if you have not it will scarcely be a surprise to you.

maɪ dɪər mɪs ˈɑrtʃər aɪ doʊnt noʊ ˈwɛðər ju wɪl hæv hɜrd ʌv maɪ ˈkʌmɪŋ tu ˈɪŋɡlənd bʌt ˈivən ɪf ju hæv nɑt ɪt wɪl ˈskɛrsli bi ə səˈpraɪz tu ju

I protested against it. You in fact appeared to accept my protest and to admit that I had the right on my side.

aɪ ˈprəˌtɛstɪd əˈɡɛnˌst ɪt. ju ɪn fækt əˈpɪrd tu əkˈsɛpt maɪ ˈprəˌtɛst ænd tu ədˈmɪt ðət aɪ hæd ðə raɪt ɒn maɪ saɪd.

I had come to see you with the hope that you would let me bring you over to my conviction; my reasons for entertaining this hope had been of the best.

aɪ hæd kʌm tu si ju wɪð ðə hoʊp ðæt ju wʊd lɛt mi brɪŋ ju ˈoʊvər tu maɪ kənˈvɪkʃən; maɪ ˈrizənz fɔr ˌɛntərˈteɪnɪŋ ðɪs hoʊp hæd bɪn əv ðə bɛst.

You admitted that you were unreasonable, and it was the only concession you would make; but it was a very cheap one, because that's not your character.

ju ədˈmɪtɪd ðæt ju wər ˌʌnˈrizənəbəl, ənd ɪt wəz ðə ˈoʊnli kənˈsɛʃən ju wʊd meɪk; bət ɪt wəz ə vɛri ʧip wʌn, bɪˈkɑz ðæts nɑt jɔr ˈkɛrəktər.

No, you are not, and you never will be, arbitrary or capricious.

noʊ, ju ɑr nɑt, ænd ju ˈnɛvər wɪl bi, ɑrˈbɪtrəri ɔr kəˈprɪʃəs.

You told me that I'm not disagreeable to you, and I believe it; for I don't see why that should be.

ju təʊld mi ðæt aɪm nɒt ˌdɪsəˈɡriːəbl tuː juː, ænd aɪ bɪˈliːv ɪt; fɔːr aɪ doʊnt siː waɪ ðæt ʃʊd biː.

If I like this country at present it is only because it holds you.

ɪf aɪ laɪk ðɪs ˈkʌntɹi ət ˈprɛzənt ɪt ɪz ˈoʊnli bɪˈkɔz ɪt hoʊldz juː.

I have been to England before, but have never enjoyed it much.

aɪ hæv bɪn tu ˈɪŋɡlənd bɪˈfɔr, bət hæv ˈnɛvər ɪnˈʤɔɪd ɪt mʌʧ.

This at present is the dearest wish of yours faithfully,

ðɪs æt ˈprɛz.ənt ɪz ðə ˈdɪər.ɪst wɪʃ əv jʊrz ˈfeɪθ.fəli

Looking up, however, as she mechanically folded it she saw Lord Warburton standing before her.

ˈlʊkɪŋ ʌp, hɑʊˈɛvər, æz ʃiː məˈkænɪkəli ˈfoʊldəd ɪt ʃiː sɔ ˈlɔrd ˈwɔrˌbɜrtən ˈstændɪŋ bɪˈfɔr hər.

This was not, as it may seem, merely a theory tinged with sarcasm.

ðɪs wəz nɑt, əz ɪt meɪ sim, ˈmɪrli ə ˈθɪri tɪndʒd wɪð ˈsɑrkæzəm

Isabel candidly believed that his lordship would, in the usual phrase, get over his disappointment.

ˈɪzəbəl ˈkændɪdli bɪˈliːvd ðæt hɪz ˈlɔːrdʃɪp wʊd, ɪn ðə ˈjuːʒuəl freɪz, ɡɛt ˈoʊvər hɪz ˌdɪsəˈpɔɪntmənt.

He had been deeply affected-this she believed, and she was still capable of deriving pleasure from the belief; but it was absurd that a man both so intelligent and so honourably dealt with should cultivate a scar out of proportion to any wound.

hi hæd bɪn ˈdipli əˈfɛktɪd-ðɪs ʃi bɪˈlivd, ənd ʃi wəz stɪl ˈkeɪpəbl əv dɪˈraɪvɪŋ ˈplɛʒər frəm ðə bɪˈliv; bət ɪt wəz əbˈsɜrd ðət ə mæn boʊθ soʊ ɪnˈtɛləʤənt ənd soʊ ˈɑnərəbli dɛlt wɪð ʃʊd ˈkʌltɪˌveɪt ə skɑr aʊt əv prəˈpɔrʃən tu ˈɛni wund.

It would have proved that he believed she was firm-which was what she wished to seem to him.

ɪt wʊd hæv pruvd ðæt hi bɪˈliːvd ʃi wəz fɜrm-wɪʧ wəz wɑt ʃi wɪʃt tu sim tu ɪm.

FRIED PERCH-two

"fraɪd pɜrtʃ tuː"

FRIED PERCH-three

fraɪd pɜrtʃ-θriː

BROILED PERCH

bɹɔɪld pɜːrtʃ

PERCH A L'ALLEMANDE

pɛʁʃ a l‿aləmɑ̃d

Cook together four tablespoonfuls of butter and two of flour.

kʊk təˈɡɛðər fɔr ˈteɪblˌspunfəlz əv ˈbʌtər ænd tuː əv flauər.

PERCH SALAD

pɜrtʃ ˈsæləd

LOVE.

lʌv

"I was as a gem concealed; Me my burning ray revealed." Koran.

aɪ wəz əz ə ʤɛm kənˈsid, miː maɪ ˈbɜrnɪŋ reɪ rɪˈviːld kɔˈræn

Every promise of the soul has innumerable fulfilments; each of its joys ripens into a new want.

ˈɛvri ˈprɒmɪs ʌv ðə soʊl hæz ɪˈnjuːmərəbəl fʊlˈfɪlmənts; itʃ ʌv ɪts ʤɔɪz ˈraɪpənz ˈɪntu ə nu wɑnt.

The delicious fancies of youth reject the least savor of a mature philosophy, as chilling with age and pedantry their purple bloom.

ðə dɪˈlɪʃəs ˈfænsiz ʌv ˈjuθ ɹɪˈʤɛkt ðə liːst ˈseɪvər ʌv ə məˈtjʊər fəˈlɑːsəfi, æz ˈʧɪlɪŋ wɪθ eɪʤ ænd ˈpɛdəntri ðeər ˈpɜrpl̩ ˈbluːm.

And therefore I know I incur the imputation of unnecessary hardness and stoicism from those who compose the Court and Parliament of Love.

ænd ˈðɛrˌfɔr aɪ noʊ aɪ ɪnˈkɜr ðə ˌɪmjʊˈteɪʃən əv ˌʌnˈnɛsəˌsɛri ˈhɑrdnəs ænd stəˈɪsɪzəm frəm ˈðoʊz hu kəmˈpoʊz ðə kɔrt ænd ˈpɑrləmənt əv lʌv

But from these formidable censors I shall appeal to my seniors.

bʌt frʌm ðiz fɔrmɪdəbəl ˈsɛnsərz aɪ ʃæl əˈpil tuː maɪ ˈsiːnjərz

For it is to be considered that this passion of which we speak, though it begin with the young, yet forsakes not the old, or rather suffers no one who is truly its servant to grow old, but makes the aged participators of it not less than the tender maiden, though in a different and nobler sort.

fɔr ɪt ɪz tu bi kənˈsɪdərd ðæt ðɪs ˈpæʃən əv wɪʧ wi spik, ðoʊ ɪt bɪˈɡɪn wɪð ðə jʌŋ, jɛt fərˈseɪks nɑt ðə oʊld, ɔr ˈræðər ˈsʌfərz noʊ wʌn hu ɪz ˈtɹuːli ɪts ˈsɜːrvənt tu ɡɹoʊ oʊld, bət meɪks ðə eɪʤd pɑrˈtɪsɪpeɪtərz əv ɪt nɑt lɛs ðæn ðə ˈtɛn.dəɹ ˈmeɪdn, ðoʊ ɪn ə ˈdɪfəɹənt ænd ˈnoʊblər sɔːrt.

For it is a fire that kindling its first embers in the narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a wandering spark out of another private heart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights up the whole world and all nature with its generous flames.

fɔr ɪt ɪz ə ˈfaɪər ðæt ˈkɪndəlɪŋ ɪts fɜrst ˈɛmbərz ɪn ðə ˈnæroʊ nʊk əv ə ˈpraɪvət ˈbʊzəm, kɔt frəm ə ˈwɑndərɪŋ spɑrk aʊt əv əˈnʌðər ˈpraɪvət hɑrt, ɡloʊz ənd ɪnˈlɑrdʒəz ənˈtɪl ɪt wɔrmz ənd ˈbimz əˈpɑn ˈmʌltɪˌtudz əv mɛn ənd ˈwɪmɪn, əˈpɑn ðə ˌjunəˈvɜrsəl hɑrt əv ɔl, ənd soʊ laɪts ʌp ðə hoʊl wɜrld ənd ɔl ˈneɪʧər wɪð ɪts ˈdʒɛnərəs fleɪmz.

It matters not therefore whether we attempt to describe the passion at twenty, at thirty, or at eighty years.

ɪt ˈmætərz nɑt ˈðɛrˌfɔr ˈwɛðər wi əˈtɛmpt tu dɪsˈkraɪb ðə ˈpæʃən ət ˈtwɛn.ti, ət ˈθɜr.ti, ɔr ət ˈeɪ.ti ˈjɪrz.

He who paints it at the first period will lose some of its later, he who paints it at the last, some of its earlier traits.

hiː huː peɪnts ɪt æt ðə fɜːrst ˈpɪəriəd wɪl luz sʌm əv ɪts ˈleɪtər, hiː huː peɪnts ɪt æt ðə lɑːst, sʌm əv ɪts ˈɪrliər treɪts.

For each man sees his own life defaced and disfigured, as the life of man is not, to his imagination.

fɔr itʃ ˈmæn siz hɪz əʊn laɪf dɪˈfeɪst ənd dɪsˈfɪɡəd, æz ðə laɪf əv mæn ɪz nɒt, tə hɪz ɪˌmæʤɪˈneɪʃən.

Let any man go back to those delicious relations which make the beauty of his life, which have given him sincerest instruction and nourishment, he will shrink and moan.

lɛt ˈɛni mæn ɡoʊ bæk tə ðoʊz dɪˈlɪʃəs rɪˈleɪʃənz wɪtʃ meɪk ðə ˈbjuti əv hɪz laɪf, wɪtʃ hæv ˈɡɪvən ˈhɪm ˈsɪnsərɪst ɪnˈstrʌkʃən ənd ˈnɜrɪʃmənt, hi wɪl ʃrɪŋk ənd moʊn.

I know not why, but infinite compunctions embitter in mature life the remembrances of budding joy and cover every beloved name.

aɪ noʊ nɑt waɪ, bət ˈɪnfənət kəmˈpʌŋkʃənz ɪmˈbɪtər ɪn məˈtʊr laɪf ðə rɪˈmɛmbrənsəz əv ˈbʌdɪŋ ʤɔɪ ənd ˈkʌvər ˈɛvri bɪˌlʌvɪd neɪm.

But all is sour, if seen as experience.

bʌt ɔl ɪz ˈsaʊər, ɪf siːn əz ɪkˈspɪriəns.

Details are melancholy; the plan is seemly and noble.

dɪˈteɪlz ɑr ˈmɛləŋkəli; ðə plæn ɪz ˈsiːmli ænd ˈnoʊbəl.

With thought, with the ideal, is immortal hilarity, the rose of joy.

wɪð θɔt, wɪð ðə aɪˈdiəl, ɪz ɪˈmɔrtəl hɪˈlærəti, ðə roʊz əv ʤɔɪ.

Round it all the Muses sing.

ˈraʊnd ɪt ɔl ðə ˈmjuːzɪz sɪŋ.