Silver does not come after gold, but precedes it. So images have their own hardness, their innate gleam and ring. They are not reflections of the world, but are the light by which we see the world. The psyche comes to each moment of the world from the moon - not just once at birth in a mythology of creation, but at birth each day, right now. This light by which the world reflects in us is the light of silver, hidden like the moon in sunlight, hidden because it is white and swift, yet all the while giving the soul's differentiated worth to each particular thing that the sunlight shows as the same, for the sun beams magnanimously on all things alike; this is the light of silver that the alchemical work strives to reconstitute and refine.
— James Hillman
Hillman is overturning the direction of value. The standard account — ancient and modern alike — runs from image toward truth, from appearance toward the thing itself, from moonlight toward the sun it merely borrows. That account is Platonic through and through, and it has had two and a half millennia to make itself feel inevitable. What Hillman does here is refuse the sequence. Silver does not come after gold. The image is not the impoverished cousin of some brighter reality waiting further along the path.
What this costs the reader is the comfort of ascent. If images are the light by which we see the world rather than shadows the world casts, then there is nowhere to arrive at beyond them. The moon is not a lesser sun. The psyche's work is not to dissolve particulars into a general radiance — the sun that beams on all things alike, indifferent to difference — but to hold the differentiation that moonlight performs: this thing, this face, this moment, each carrying its own worth that sunlight, for all its power, cannot confer. Refinement in the alchemical sense is not purification toward unity. It is the slow disclosure of what the image already contains.
James Hillman·Alchemical Psychology·2010