From "The Golden Girls: My Brother, My Father (#3.17)"
[Explaining why he's not a priest
] Picture it, Sicily, 1914. I promise our dear sainted mother on her death bed I'm gonna join the priesthood. On my way to the seminary in Palermo I stop off at a local trattoria for a glass of Chianti. The waitress bring drink to the table, is a vision, luscious lips, full bosom, and a behind so round, so firm, you've got to fall down on your knees and cry out at its magnificent regal beauty.
I'm a butt man.
Anyway, my devotion to G-d doesn't waiver, but suddenly the idea of living with a bunch of guys in itchy robes doesn't seem quite as appealing as that tokhes. So, I tear up my priest application, ask Filomena to marry me, and we live the next 72 years in wedded bliss.