We went back to his study, a large square room lined with bookcases on two sides. There were his desk, his chair, an enormous wastebasket and his pens - the kind you dip in ink. At right angles to the fireplace was a small sofa. "I lie there," he said with a smile, "and wait for my daemon to tell me what to do."Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go lay on my couch.
He shrugged. "Intuition. Subconscious. Whatever you want to call it."
"Can you always hear him?"
"No," he said slowly. "Not always. But I learned long ago that it's best to wait until you do. When our daemon says nothing, he usually means no."
H/T: Arthur Gordon. I highly recommend the book you'll find at that link.