It is a place not calculated to give inspiration to a writer.

No easy chairs, no soft divans, no wealth of upholstery, but simply a place to work and stay.

Never having heard a word about it, it was nevertheless just such a place as we expected.
We had there confirmed our former theory of a man's study as only a part of himself, or a piece of tight-fitting clothing.

It is the shell of the tortoise, just made to fit the tortoise's back.

Thomas Carlyle could have no other kind of a workshop.