Frank Lucas Quotes

The loudest one in the room is the weakest one in the room.

I’ve found that if you expect the best of a person,” Frank told him once, “you generally get it.” “What happens when you don’t?” Lucas asked. “Live and learn. Emphasis on learn.

You leave that life out there,” he said, motioning to the street. “You cross the threshold of your home and that’s it. Don’t bring any of that into your home. Ever.

That's how long it had been since thirty-five year-old Frank DeLuca had been home. It was strange how little had changed in the old neighborhood. He glanced in the rearview mirror. He supposed he didn't look much different than he had back then. His coal black hair was still thick and free of gray. A few small lines had appeared at the corners of his mouth and his dark blue eyes, but his six feet, four inch frame was still lean and muscled, courtesy of his athletic lifestyle. He wasn't sure why he'd expected the neighborhood to have changed so much. Things here rarely did. His childhood home seemed smaller, somehow, even though it looked exactly the same: a two-story, four bedroom, two bathroom, brick Cape Cod with a small front yard and a slightly larger fenced-in back

I am a businessman. I am anything i need to be at any time.

I am a businessman. I am anything i need to be at any time.

After a moment, the governor laughed and said, “You are a piece of work, Lucas. You and that fuckin’ Flowers, both of you. I really get my entertainment dollar’s worth.” “The last person who said I was a piece of work, offered to take me to bed,” Lucas said. “Well, I’ll pass on that,” Henderson said. Then, after a moment of silence, the governor said, “I’ll have to mediate this. I’ll have to confer with other Important People. Porter, of course, is going to lay an ostrich-sized egg. I don’t see how Grant can stay on as a senator, and frankly, that’s about the best possible outcome I could have imagined.” “How’s that?” Lucas asked. “Guess who would appoint her replacement?” Henderson said. “I’d have Porter Smalls out of my hair and a new senator who would be wildly happy about supporting me for a better job . . . if somebody goes looking for, say, a vice president.

The familiar guilt washed over her. Even after all these years, it was still there. She'd thought she'd put it behind her. After all, she'd come up with a solution that had worked for the past eight years. But still, it came forward, the memory of the little round blue disc, the one with a filled spot that was supposed to be empty. How could she explain that to Frank? He would think that she'd made it all up to get to his money. Even back then he'd been worth enough that most people would've thought what she'd done had been intentional.

decade. That's how long it had been since thirty-five year-old Frank DeLuca had been home. It was strange how little had changed in the old neighborhood. He glanced in the rearview mirror. He supposed he didn't look much different than he had back then. His coal black

The older I get the more scared I am about my financial situation, unfortunately, I can’t afford to retire right now as I’m worried about my income. I feel bad about my current job, work, and business as it doesn’t do what it was intended and I wish I made different decisions that would lead me somewhere else not where I am now. Frankly speaking my past is characterized by lots of financial ignorance that I am ashamed of, I never had a financial coach or mentor to help me get out of this situation and I feel like it's too late to change my direction. —The Apathy of Financial Ignorance

The loudest man in the room is the weakest man in the room.

The most important thing in business is honesty, integrity, hardwork... family... never forgetting where we came from.

What good part?" Kylie asked. Miranda's grin spread into the perfect smile-one that could be used to sell teeth-whitening strips. "Pleeeassse. You were there, in the dark, late at night, for several hours, and alone with Lucas. Who happens to be the hottest werewolf alive. I mean, I'm so not into werewolves, but even I can see it. He's like a god. So..." She held out her two palms. "What happened? And don't you dare tell me nothing. Because I will totally, completely lose faith in romance if nothing happened." Kylie opened her mouth to answer and then saw Della leaning forward, turning her head slightly, as if to listen to Kylie's heartbeat to see if she attempted to lie. "The little witch has a point," Della said. "This might be the good part." Kylie frowned at Della. For a girl who always kept secrets, she sure didn't give anyone else a break. Then Kylie looked at Miranda, who held her breath in anticipation of Kylie baring her soul. "Sorry," she said. "Nothing happened." "Ugh." Miranda dropped her arms on the table and sank into them. Della stared, and Kylie knew the vamp was listening to her heartbeat and checking for lies again. Frankly, Kylie wasn't sure what Della would hear. It wasn't actually a lie. Nothing happened. Except ... She'd felt so safe when Lucas had held her, except that she'd turned into Wonder Woman when she'd heard the rogue hurting Lucas. What did that mean? Kylie wasn't sure. So how could she explain it? Miranda lifted her head off the table. "See what I mean? You're Mother Teresa. Pure. Without lust." "No," Kylie snapped, not wanting to be viewed as a saint. "I ... lust." Della and Miranda shared a pensive stare. "Sorry," Della said. "When it walks like a saint, and quacks like saint-it's a quacking saint." "He held me," Kylie said. "Held me close. And I fell asleep on his shoulder. It was nice. And kind of ... He was hot." Though she meant temperature hot, she didn't mind if they drew their own conclusions. "Yes!" Miranda smiled extra big again."Did he kiss you? Like the awesome kiss he gave you at the creek when you first got here?" "No," Kylie said. Her two friends met each other's gazes again. "Mother Teresa," they said in unison.

Frank wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him.

The Snowden revelations have also exposed the fact that senior officials, particularly America's Director of National Intelligence, James Clapper, have not been fully frank with Congress.