In order to both live and function in the city, I had to rewire my brain. I recall the first few months in the city being absolutely terrifying. Not because of any one thing in particular, but your sense of self starts to evaporate. You start to see the boundaries between you and the universe. You feel small.
Occasionally, my girlfriend and I travel back to her home town. An honest to goodness town, too. It's classified as a "village." When I'm there, I often take walks around the entirety of the town. The change of pace is incredible. Even compared to where I grew up, there's a sense of serenity, not just in the immediate experience, but in the people.
The behavior you see there is a total 180 from what you experience in the city – a cold, dismissive brood that makes you feel entirely too insignificant.
When I moved to Chicago I made it a point to visit FLW's home and studio in Oak Park (about 20-30 minutes outside of the city). Though the area he built in has changed dramatically (based on the descriptions told as a part of the tour), there was something really serene about it all. His home was directly adjacent to his studio. Seeing this, the whole time I thought "yeah, I could dig this."
This article makes his vision sound akin to the modern day suburb, which, while there are similarities, doesn't feel like an accurate interpretation. If you get the chance to experience some of his more rural-based work, I would check it out. There's a certain flow to the buildings he designed that elicits a feeling of peace. I can imagine his plans outlined in this article were to accomplish that on a much bigger scale.