Hell is oneself, Hell is alone. - T. S. Eliot

And the end and the beginning where always there, before the beginning and after the end.

What is this self inside us, this silent observer,
Severe and speechless critic, who can terrorize us
And urge us to futile activity,
And in the end, Judge us still more severely,
For the errors into which his own reproaches drove us?

This is the land which ye Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.