A reading that objectifies Illich's books, isolating them from myself, from where I am, from the way I live, begins as a performance in dilettantism and ends as a feeble exercise in futility.
Once Illich arrived at Incarnation Parish and realized that many newly arrived Puerto Ricans had moved into the area, he went to Puerto Rico, learned Spanish almost overnight, and spent one month on foot exploring many aspects of Puerto Rican life.
Illich was the most severe and uncompromising taskmaster I have ever met.
Illich is not only a knowledgeable and enthusiastic librarian-colleague, he also gives voice to the basic conviction of the importance of libraries and free access to material preserved anywhere by anyone.
Ivan Illich's thought has been a genuine challenge to some of my basic presuppositions.
Ivan Illich describes a revolution in reading and writing that took place in the thirteenth century equal in importance to the invention of movable type.
In the diverse arenas in which Illich has repeatedly challenged the certainties of official wisdom — from theory and practice in education, medicine, and economic development to cultural history and applied ethics — his characteristic method of intelectual work is that defined by his CIDOC years: repeated, focused conversation with a small circle of colleagues.
About civilized life, whether vernacular or institutional, there is no one I know who sees so clearly.
He is in the great tradition of the Exodus, of the individual and of a people who experience a God different from other gods, those with fixed abodes in certain sites, of a God who passes over the earth and can be known only by someone disposed to see his back as he passes by — and to follow him.
We see Illich as a singular expression on the society concept