My short story class tutor is just delightful. She's wonderful. She's like my own little personal Yoda, full of glee and delight and bits of clever wisdom. Like:

In Russian novels, the protagonist suffers. (How true!)

and:

Diaries are for composing ourselves. (This one struck me so much I went around with it written on my hand for a whole day.)

Plus, she has no eyebrows. Or maybe she does, but her hair is so finely blonde that they can't be seen from my seat at the back of the classroom. It all adds to the image of her as some sort of eldritch creature, a gnome or a brownie, something magical and mystical. She's so full of life and energy, it's impossible to retain any sort of cynical dispassion at all.

She's wonderful. She's inspiring. She's everything creative writing teachers should be.