Canst thou read his inmost soul?
"The Poets and Poetry of Cecil County, Maryland" by Various
The flame of art burned white and clear in the inmost shrine of her being.
"The Penalty" by Gouverneur Morris
Rachel, indeed, owned to no such feeling, even in her inmost heart.
"The Shadow of the Rope" by E. W. Hornung
It's the real, inmost me, and the real, inmost him.
"The Roll-Call" by Arnold Bennett
His inmost nature had suddenly asserted itself.
"Library of the World's Best Mystery and Detective Stories" by Edited by Julian Hawthorne
When I say 'we,' I mean our inmost spirits, the instinctive part, the mystery within that exists.
"The Human Machine" by E. Arnold Bennett
What woman would not be moved to the inmost depths by such words?
"Robert Browning" by Edward Dowden
All that was passing in his inmost soul was communicated in that tight pressure.
"Poor Relations" by Honore de Balzac
In the heart of the artist-poet there is an Inmost Self that sits over against the acting, breathing man and passes judgment on his every deed.
"Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Vol. 1 of 14" by Elbert Hubbard
Persons in the inmost ring whispered that Denry Machin had at length been bested on this critically important day.
"The Card, A Story Of Adventure In The Five Towns" by Arnold Bennett
Perchance you are right. I know not
If a phantom it may be;
But yet, in my inmost heart, I feel
That it lives, and lives for me.
"My Castle" by Horatio Alger Jr
She spoke, and with a voice so keen,
It search'd his inmost soul,
And caus'd a storm of fearful spleen,
Thro' his dark brain to roll
"The Fatal Horse" by William Hayley
Ah, dearest Jesus, holy Child,
Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,
Here in my poor heart's inmost shrine,
That I may evermore be Thine.
"From Heaven Above to Earth I Come" by Martin Luther
He took me to the grand old hills
That bare their foreheads to the sky;
We wandered by the singing rills
And felt their inmost melody.
"Grasmere" by Alexander Anderson
And 'tis the unloving and least wise
Who through life's inmost precincts press,
And with unsympathetic eyes
Outrage our sacred loneliness.
"The Door Of Humility" by Alfred Austin
And doubt we yet? Thou call'st again;
A lower still, a sweeter strain;
A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine,
This very breath of Love divine.
"Holy Communion" by John Keble