He sums it up in four words: "Hell is other people!" And these words may be found in his play No Exit.
[SPOILER ALERT!]
No Exit is an illustration of hell. It depicts hell as a room that cannot be opened from the inside. It's a stuffy room with only one door, and no windows. There is a bell that you can try ringing to call the caretaker who will accompany you in, but it usually does not work. The doors, in fact, usually open only to let more people in.
Inside the room is furniture, perhaps some couches to sit on, a table with a lamp and a paper knife, but no bed for you can never sleep. In fact, the lights cannot be turned off, and you cannot move the lamp from the table. There are no mirrors, nor any breakable items, nothing that resembles glass or anything from which you can see your own reflection, except perhaps the bell which is a bronze ornament (but all you can see in it, I suppose, is your eyes) that cannot be moved from the mantelshelf.
There are no meals, no bathroom breaks (there's no need for either), and absolutely nothing for leisure. All you are allowed to take in are the clothes on your back. But there are other people. Strangers as horrible as yourself, sent to the room for living a life as nasty and as unrepentant as yours. You will be stuck with at least two.
But these two are not just any two. You are predisposed to be drawn to at least one of them, and at least one of them would be the same to you. At the same time, you can't stand them both, and vice versa. You can't make them listen to you, and neither can they make you. You will try to draw out from one another something you desperately need, like security, faith, comfort, admiration, intimacy and even love, but it's the same something that neither of you can dish out. This, I suppose, goes on for eternity, as there is nothing else to do, nothing to keep your mind of it and no other place to go. There is nothing you can use to kill yourself or the others (not that there's any use for that anyhow), and I believe the paper knife is there to mock you.
If you're anything human, chances are you can imagine what it's like, you know how it feels to yearn for something eternally unattainable. This life, my friends, is a little taste of hell.
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