Everyone who has gone on a Yale tour knows that celebrated poet Robert Frost called the Branford College courtyard “the most beautiful college courtyard in all America.” But what else did Frost say about Yale?

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“Well, thanks a lot for inviting me. Nice place you got here.”

—Robert Frost, to Yale President Kingman Brewster, 2:15 p.m., March 14, 1963

“In fact, I’ve always thought it would be great to have an honorary degree from Yale. Oh, you know I’m kidding.”

—Frost again, 2:17 p.m.

“Branford College has the most beautiful college courtyard in all America.”

—Frost, 2:20 p.m.

“Beinecke Plaza is the most beautiful rare books library-holding plaza in the country, Kingman.”

—Frost, nudging Brewster’s shoulder, 2:32 p.m.

“How am I doing?”

—Frost, mouthing the words quietly to his wife, 2:32:30 p.m.

“The tour, the gentle autumn breeze, the delicious salmon: this is the best day of my entire life!”

—Frost, smiling broadly, 6:28 p.m.

“What a suck-up! Is he always like this?”

—Kingman Brewster, softly to Mrs. Frost, 6:28:08 p.m.

“You should have seen him at Harvard. ‘If two roads diverged in a wood, I’d take the one to Cambridge.’ For shame!”

—Mrs. Frost, 6:28:35 p.m.

“I know you honored two poets last year, but I also know that you still can choose the right road here. After all, you’re the ‘King’ of this place. Get it?”

—Frost, 7:12 p.m.

“Want to take a stroll to Branford, the Blah-Blah-Blah- Blah…”

—Brewster, mimicking Frost, to Mrs. Brewster, 7:25 p.m.

“Look honey, I don’t know what you want! I’m trying to get the damn degree. You know what good press does for book sales. I just don’t know if we’re approaching this the right way. Calm down!”

—Frost, to his wife, 8:01 p.m.

“I know how many I’ve had, and yes, I’ll have another whiskey sour. On the rocks.”

—Frost, throwing a chair at his waiter at Mory’s Temple Bar, 10:45 p.m.

“You’re not sleeping here smelling like spirits.”

—Mrs. Frost, 11:14 p.m.

“You have the most beautiful figure in the entire country, sweetheart.”

—Frost, getting frisky at the bar of the Union League Café, 11:32 p.m.

“Who needs your damn university, Kingman? Huh? I’ll tell you who: nobody!”

—Frost, throwing rocks at the President’s house, 1:12 a.m.

“Did you hear something, honey?”

—Brewster to Mrs. Brewster, 1:20 a.m.

“Damn you, Yale!”

—Frost, curling up to sleep it off in the Branford College courtyard, 1:55 a.m.

—M. Matera, ’03