There is a great solitude about such a shore. The woods are never solitary- they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. We can never pierce its infinite mystery- we may only wander, awed and spell-bound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only- a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.
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It has to be acknowledged that in capitalist society, with its herds of hippies, originality has become a sort of fringe benefit, a mere convention, accepted obsolescence, the Beatnik model being turned in for the Hippie model, as though strangely obedient to capitalist laws of marketing.
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It can be shown that for any nutty theory, beyond-the-fringe political view, or strange religion there exists a proponent on the Net. The proof is left as an exercise for your kill-file.
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There's no job for being right, there's no salary for knowing the truth and there's no fringe benfits for helping others
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I did loads of student films and fringe theatre. I worked for free a lot.
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The lunatic fringe wags the underdog.
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Every reform movement has a lunatic fringe.
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