In every age there comes a time when the storytellers must decide whether they belong to the comfortable halls of power or to the scattered fellowship outside the gates. These hundreds of gatherings, from museums to tiny bookstores, look very much like a modern council of free peoples comparing notes about a rising shadow. No single reading or concert can defeat the machinery of censorship that creeps through laws and school boards, but they can keep the memory of a freer age alive while others try to bury it. The danger is not that artists speak too loudly, it is that they tire of speaking before the journey is through.