Angel Levine

Tears blinded the tailor's eyes. Was ever a man so tried? Should he say he believed a half-drunken Negro to be an angel?
The silence turned to stone.
Manischewitz was recalling scenes of his youth, as a wheel in his mind whirred: believe, do not, yes, no, yes, no. The pointer pointed to yes, to between yes and no, to no, not it was yes. He sighed. One had still to make a choice.
"I believe you are also an angel -- from God." He said it simply but in a broken voice. Yet he thoughtm, if you said it it was said If you believed it you must say it. If you believed, you believed.
The hush broke. Everybody talked but the music commenced and they went on dancing. Bella, grown bored, picked up the cards and dealt herself a hand.
Levine burst into tears. "How you have humiliated me."

This passage, from Bernard Malamud's Angel Levine, is the climax of the story. Manischewitz, who had been driven to the point of desperation, finally accepted Alex Levine as a messenger from God. What I think is so intriguing about this scene is how the cabaret changes. They are all staring at the poor old tailor, when he admits the truth, and suddenly nobody knows either of them are there, or ever were present. It is as if Levine as erased the people's memories and made him and Manischewitz invisible. I see the whole thing as a test, which everyone in life is faced with. And the thing about tests is: they always get darker and more macabre before they get better. However, the pay off at the end is worth it, as Manischewitz discovered. Now, whether I would have claimed a drunk Negro was an angel is not important, but many people will do crazy things when they are in desperate need of succor. However, I like the story and believe Malamud structured it masterfully.

PS: the green highlights are the adjectival clauses required. The first is close the beginning of the sentence. The second is at the end.

Homer

"Zeus has torn away my joy.
But there's something else that mortifies me now.
Your way is a far cry from the time-honored way
of suitors locked in rivalry, striving to win
some noble woman, a wealthy man's daughter.
They bring in their own calves and lambs
to feast the friends of the bride-to-be, yes,
and shower her with gleaming gifts as well.
They don't devour the woman's goods scot-free."
Staunch Odysseus glowed with joy to hear all this --
his wife's trickery luring gifts from her suitors now,
enchanting their hearts with suave seductive words
but all the while with something else in mind.
(Homer's 'Odyssey', Book 18, lines 307-318.)

I chose this passage, for it reveals a new side of Penelope's character. Until now she has been pretty passive and lax. She doesn't really seem to be caring about what is going on. She is annoyed with the suitors, and weeps for her husband, but doesn't really do anything. However, in this passage, she decides to trick her cadging suitors, who have been carousing and causing quite a pandemonium. She tells them to start courting her like real men and give her rich gifts, so she will be more inclined to pick a new husband. However, she has no intention of marrying any of them, any time soon. She, like Odysseus, is able to deceive her enemies easily with fanciful fables. Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, hears her and is impressed. He realizes she is much like him, and he is enraptured. He is proud, thinking "yes, that is my wife up there robbing those pernicious suitors blind. Ha, ha." It almost makes me laugh just thinking about it -- the interesting development of Odysseus's wife, Penelope.

Homer

With that promise,
off and away Athena the bright-eyed goddess flew
like a bird in soaring flight
but left his spirit filled with nerve and courage,
charged with his father's memory more than ever now.
He felt his senses quicken, overwhelmed with wonder--
this was a god, he knew it well and made at once
for the suitors, a man like a god himself... (l. 366- 373)
...until discreet Telemachus took command: "You suitors
who plague my mother, you, you insolent, overweening...
for this evening let us dine and take our pleasure,
no more shouting now... But at first light
we all march forth to assembly, take our seats
so I can give my orders and say to you straight out:
You must leave my palace! (l. 422-430)

I loved this passage from Homer's Odyssey. Athena comes to Prince Telemachus, who was feeling like a weak, used boy. However, she strengthens him with words and an intriguing portent, and he watches her fly away in wondrous splendor, frowning and scratching his head. After her visit and warning against the pernicious suitors, he finds that he has the guts to take command, like his father. So, followed by an unseen guard, he approaches the bevy of suitors and orders them out of his palace. They ignore him, but it is still a start. I just love the idea of a weak son of a strong man, finally finding the hidden power inside him to stand up to the bullies. Of course, it always helps when a goddess gives you the words. (The green is the two participial phrases from Kilgallon.)